This weekend, still babying my sprained ankle, I took a journey into the past. I spent several hours scanning old slides and photos that have been piled up in boxes and envelopes for ages. The inheritor of my husband Fred’s family archives, I have sent boxes of pictures to his brother and his kids, but there were many photos I wanted to keep copies of for myself. Plus, having been a photographer most of my life, I have tons of my own pictures to digitize.
The weekend’s photos were a blend of my own life and Fred’s. Many of the pictures were old black and whites of Fred as a baby and little boy. Quite a few showed his parents, Al and Helen Lick, when they were young. I found pictures of Fred’s mother’s parents and THEIR parents, the Waltons and the Townes, below. I never met those people, but as the pictures went farther and farther back in time, I got more and more excited. Fred’s mother as a child, her mother and her mother’s mother. Her father, bottom right. I don’t even know his first name, but I want to know his story. The settings took me back to my 1950s childhood and farther back into the years just before I was born. Look at those old cars, the baggy pants, the braided hairdos. Imagine living in that house.
I loved looking at how Fred changed from that baby to that cute little boy (upper right) to that gawky teen to that handsome Navy man to my wonderful bearded husband. I could see the arc of his whole life in these pictures.
There were others, photos from my own life. One showed the whole family that I used to have when I was married to my first husband. There I was with my long hair, minimal makeup and big glasses, surrounded by the Fagaldes and Barnards. Me, in love with a man who was not Fred—before the divorce. Other pictures showed Fred and his kids, my parents, my brother, my cousins, my grandparents. School pictures, holidays, trips.
I can only look at so many of my own pictures before sadness and loss overwhelm me. So many of my loved ones have died; so many of the living are far away. Maybe that’s why it’s so fun looking at Fred’s family photos. I never met most of these people. I didn’t know Fred and his brothers when they were kids. It’s like piecing together a story that goes back through nearly a century. Some of the photos are turning brown. Some are scratched, torn or bent, but each one captures a moment, opening the shutters so I can peek in.
And now, with computer technology, I don’t have to decide what to keep or who to send the pictures to. We can all have copies. Magic! (Kids and cousins, I will email you copies.)
I’m grateful for Fred’s mother writing information on the back of many photos. Too many of mine say nothing or just offer first names. Other people might not know who they are. Preserving old photos is an art. Maybe all of your pictures are stored on your computer or phone, but most of us still have some actual photographs hanging around. I know I could do a better job of preserving them. Maybe you could, too. The following links offer some advice on what to do with them.