So how do we remember?
My paternal grandmother had a dressing table something like this. She used to sit before it and brush her long, thick gray hair (which was once auburn) and then coil it up on top of her head in two fat braids, secured with tortoise shell combs.
But the picture I have in my mind is a bit fuzzy around the edges. I wish I had a photograph of this part of her daily routine. I would love to see the details again — the colours and the shapes that made up my grandmother’s world.
In the last little while I’ve been looking at old family photos in albums. My father was an excellent amateur photographer. He took black and white photos on a Rolleiflex twin lens reflex camera that my mother gave him before I was born. His images captured the details of people living life with love and artistry.
Later on, he progressed to even fancier cameras and colour film, but I think that his early black and white work was some of his very best. Through these photos, the past is not lost to me and my family.
Like many others, I take photos of special occasions and also everyday moments — the grandchildren picking carrots from our garden and wrestling with Grandpa, our travels on the sailboat in the winter, our family outings — as a way to help us all remember down the road…the details of our days, the richness of our lives.
So how do you remember?