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Backstory
Photos are used to memorialize big events in our lives. We look at the image and conjure up the event and the people and the happenstance. Hopefully it was a happy time that brings smiles to our lips.
But what happens to the memories when the photos are gone? When there is no one left who treasures them or wants to keep them lovingly in a book or box or locket. We explore that phenomenon in today’s story.
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Instant Family – #352
We were at an estate auction recently, An elderly lady had died and the contents of her house were being disposed of. Kind of a sad event – watching the accumulations of a lifetime on the auction block.
It is particularly poignant to see family photos in frames going to the stranger with the highest bid. Pictures that sing of memories of a life lived.
Are there children who didn’t want these photos? Is there no one left behind who would care about the smiles of the children on the back of the farm wagon? Or the youthful grin of the boy and his dog? Or the sweeping elegance of the bride in the photo dated 1923?
One auctioneer joked while justifying bids for a box of photos – “Instant family – right here.” A dealer bought that box. He will sort through the photos and put the best ones on display in his shop.
He’ll hope to find something valuable in there. But he’ll pass over dozens of photos that had value, once, to someone.
Perhaps the fact that “things” are being auctioned off is insignificant. The furniture and tools and souvenirs and quilts didn’t make this person’s life,
The memories represented by those photos did.
Looks like it was a good life. I hope so.
P.S.
Photos disappear. Memories fade. So how DOES one create immortality? Perhaps it all comes back to one of my favorite quotes of Maya Angelou:
“At the end of the day, people won’t remember what you said or did, they will remember how you made them feel.”
[Show #352]
Thank you Annette! All I can say is…Amen!! Hugs💓💓
This story really hit home with many folks. So glad to have so many people to whom to respond. Thank you for writing so often.
Nice, Annette…as you may remember, Moe and I used to go to auctions in the valley every weekend. If we end up there, so will we again…maybe. Moe (my former husband and whom I told you previously) will hopefully be able to begin going again. He has spent the last years taking care of his wife, who has Parkinson’s. She is now beyond his abilities (24 hours a day and all necessary jobs has left him unable to do anything else, and I think, exhausted) and she is on a waiting list for assisted living. It will allow him to get back to his antiquing…you may meet up with him at an auction sometime. Are you furnishing your new home???
Still looking for a truck…need to win the lottery to point to a new one and say “we’ll take it!” Dreaming…
take care – E
You have such loving memories of the Valley, Elsie. We sure do look forward to having you as our guests when you finally get mobile.
Annette,
Thank you for making me feel good.
George
My pleasure, George. Stop by some time. We are in Woodstock now.
Great story, and how true. When my parents passed, we sat down on evening in their kitchen and went througt boxs of pictures we each took the ones we wanted and gave some to relatives. The ones we did not know who the people were we through away. I bought my dads movie camera, screen and the 8mm film at the auction. My oldest Son is in the process of turning the movies to dvd’s so that we can share them with other family at reunions and get togethers. These things are price less.
Sharon Coffman
Those DVDs will be heirlooms to pass down, Sharon. So glad for you.
Message sent in an email, repeated here for Connie Whitley –
The timing of your broadcast left me with so many mixed emotions. My mother passed away a year ago, yet I am still struggling with how to deal with the loss and how to deal with the items in her home that no one wanted. Once Mike and I, our daughters, extended family and beloved friends were blessed with what they wanted from Mom’s belongings, all that remains will go to strangers that won’t have an inkling of the joy, love and laughter we had in her home. It is a bitter pill to swallow! We are forced to sell “as is” because the home is old and needs a lot of work, and her home is a small two bedroom, one bath house with a beautiful finished basement that just flooded right before the auction date.
I am left with a ton of memories flowing through my mind after going through boxes and boxes of photos, family movies on video tapes and the odds and ends that no one, but our family, cares about. As an example of a cherished event, an article of her citizenship ceremony held in the Church of Jamestown on July 4, 1956, the one and only time in history it was done there to our knowledge, on the 180th birthday of the United States. A proud day for her and so exciting she would later tell me. She taught herself English writing letters to my father while he was stationed in another country. jWhen he wrote her back, he included her letter with corrections on misspelling, sentence structure, etc. so she could learn how to write and speak more fluently, which she loved. My father called her Lucky because he thought he was the luckiest man on earth to have her as his beloved wife. I could go on and on of course, but today it brings tears to my eyes and I have to stop.
What happens after our daughters are gone, will the grandchildren even care, will all be trashed and forgotten …….I was just telling my oldest how sad to think that one day, perhaps, no one will remember the beautiful love my parents shared for one another, the love letters I have in my possession that after a few generations will be tossed perhaps. We will never know, but your show hit home today and mirrored my recent thoughts. I know it is all part of life and we have to accept it, but it is so hard to do at times!
Maybe it is because we are all getting older that we reflect more on the future generations’ handling of our precious memories. ……
One of the reasons I enjoy writing, Connie, is that the words will be there, long after we have left this earth. It is my hope that somewhere along the way, someone will stumble across the words and feel the love that was shared, and the gratitude and the essence of the person’s being. If only Internet posts lasted as long as paper does.