Day 1171 Photo evidence

Memories of Halloweens Past

How can this photo have been taken fifteen years ago—and why on earth did I think Bat woman needed to be a blonde?

Each morning, one of the first things I do is check my photo memories. I love scrolling through pictures of my grandkids when they were little—and whatever other nonsense I happened to snap on the same day in history. All the photos of my kids live inside photo albums or in a big plastic bin, safe until I finally get around to putting them into proper albums. With my youngest now 35, I’m not sure I’ll ever get to that!

When it comes to pictures of my own generation, they’re few and far between. We had our annual school photos, which were always cringe-worthy, trust me—and I think our parents figured that was enough. I used to tease my folks that I must have been adopted and arrived when I was a year old, since my “one-year-old portrait” is the first official photo that exists of me. That's what I get for being the fourth child in five years!!

Kids today have their lives documented daily, and I doubt they’ll love it in years to come. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to see themselves sick on the couch—distant memories of that are plenty! Bad haircuts and awkward stages are softened by time… as long as there’s no photo evidence.

Then there’s the whole can of worms that is social media and photos. Some post, some don’t—and who’s to say what’s right? My daughter has never posted photos of her kids or allowed anyone else to, while my stepdaughter chronicles every stage of my two younger grandsons’ lives. Time will tell. I doubt any of the boys will care either way—boys are easy that way. Girls… that’s another story! You’ll be blamed for all the troubles in the world, either way. Sorry, girl parents!

I’m sure if social media had been around when I was raising my kids, I would have posted a photo or two, but I like to think I’d have used the “Would I want my photo taken in this situation?” rule as my guide.

I try very hard to respect my family’s privacy when I write. My children are all private people, so poor Tim often ends up the subject of my stories.... His antics are usually blog worthy, but thankfully, he’s a good sport about it, especially when I paint him in a good light! ...and go figure...I’m not the first woman to write a blog about him, but that’s a story for another day.

For today, I’ll just reminisce about dressing up with the man I love and marvel at how happy we still are, all these years later.

I keep in mind that sometimes, the best memories can't be captured in photos—they’re the ones we keep tucked safely in our hearts and memories....ours to revisit anytime- no plastic bin to hold them needed! 

"We do not remember days, we remember moments." — Cesare Pavese