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....my mom and grandmas are/were good at least of scribbling names on the back of photos, some actually have the connections explained......but, like you-it seems hurtful for all these folk's portraits to be dumped into flea market bins....ignominious end to a beautiful life....I have too. Not long ago there was this very old, hmm, guessing 8 x 10 photo of this really beautiful woman. Black and white and just that touch of pink on the cheeks that they used to do? I almost bought it to frame. I had no clue who she was, but inside I was wounded for her. I asked the desk person if they knew who she was and they didn't.
And, it made me realize as I start losing relatives, we have pictures of ancestors who I have no idea who they are. No one took the time to write on them -- they knew in their heads who the person(s) was, but it stayed in their heads, and now it's in their graves. My siblings and I look at them and have no idea who we are looking at. So sad.
Good for your family! It's so important. And yes, it is hurtful. Was this just the very last person in this family? No one but a stranger left to clean out their home and toss memories of a lifetime.....my mom and grandmas are/were good at least of scribbling names on the back of photos, some actually have the connections explained......but, like you-it seems hurtful for all these folk's portraits to be dumped into flea market bin....ignominious end to a beautiful life....
...anything of a past age gives me pause, and a moment to wonder-"who really owned this?", "was it for-special?" and jewelry?....that is one of the hardest, vendors treat pieces as so much paste and frippery....not anything-which though it may be inferior and cheap-meant the world to the giver and giftee.....Good for your family! It's so important. And yes, it is hurtful. Was this just the very last person in this family? No one but a stranger left to clean out their home and toss memories of a lifetime.
I'm a weirdo. The ephemera of someone's life means something to me. Others just look at it as material things. Junk. And some of it is. But some of it is absolute treasure.
Okay. My mom died years ago. She had the nicest jewelry because she worked in a jewelry store for 30 years. I didn't want any of that. My mom had a few special pieces she wanted me to have, and of course, I took them. But, honestly, I'm not a jewelry girl, and I would never sell it -- so, I let my sister and her daughter take the lion's share of that. (My mom also gave pieces to my brother's wife and his daughters)...anything of a past age gives me pause, and a moment to wonder-"who really owned this?", "was it for-special?" and jewelry?....that is one of the hardest, vendors treat pieces as so much paste and frippery....not anything-which though it may be inferior and cheap-meant the world to the giver and giftee.....
That is on thing my mom never did-- write on the back of photos. She must have had over 30 albums packed front to back. I sat with her, asked her- nope. So now that she is passed- I look at these albums and wonder-- who are these people, places?....my mom and grandmas are/were good at least of scribbling names on the back of photos, some actually have the connections explained......but, like you-it seems hurtful for all these folk's portraits to be dumped into flea market bins....ignominious end to a beautiful life....
They are ghosts staring at us from the page. I'm an inquisitive person as it is, so to have these secret faces looking back at me drives me nuts.That is on thing my mom never did-- write on the back of photos. She must have had over 30 albums packed front to back. I sat with her, asked her- nope. So now that she is passed- I look at these albums and wonder-- who are these people, places?
No worries, take as many liberties as you want. Stories lead to yet more stories, I love hearing them. Don't let your stories stay bottled up or forgotten like those old dusty photographs. I believe empathy is the driving force of all good fiction; I recognize this trait in you. Thanks for sharing your memories here.Sorry to derail your thread, Doc. Your topic left me feeling nostalgic.
aw, thanks. You are so gracious.No worries, take as many liberties as you want. Stories lead to yet more stories, I love hearing them. Don't let your stories stay bottled up or forgotten like those old dusty photographs. I believe empathy is the driving force of all good fiction; I recognize this trait in you, thanks for sharing your memories here.
Nice picture (mine was supposed to be colour too but turned out looking black and white). I took that when I did a six month tour up near the North Pole.I'm not sure if I've posted this before.
It's not a true B&W, but I'll fudge a bit. Photo I took of a glass worker in Guadalajara. I didn;'t desaturate it fully and left that splash of color in for the "heat" effect. We ended up with four nice glasses from this shop.
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Nice picture (mine was supposed to be colour too but turned out looking black and white). I took that when I did a six month tour up near the North Pole.
They did have a photography club where you could develop film etc.That sounds like an interesting tour!