We have a project going on here. We love projects. Tom has spent the past week walking upstairs with photo albums and scanning photos for a TV photo display for our anniversary party. I didn't want to miss all the fun, so got involved with the boxes of photos that never made it to the albums. I really have quite an organized system with little plastic boxes labeled with family member names or trips etc. We have been finding some classics. One is of me in front of the Coliseum on a trip to Rome. I look quite historical. But the treasures are the kids being silly, my mom and dad, Tom in the only beard he ever grew, our most difficult child looking like the picture of innocence. Then there is trying to figure out if this is the dad or his son, or the mom or her daughter.
We've been trying to figure out a timeline: when did son number two get married, when someone graduated. Then there is the grandson who hated his picture taken and always hid behind the others. Then there are the special pictures with great-grandmas and grandpas, tiny babies held by those eighty years their seniors.
Now I'm into really old old pictures, of my husband at our college annual toilet bowl football game he says I was the queen of one year, an honor I had completely forgotten. The whole event centered around a giant snow toilet bowl. Real classy event.
What a good life we've had. How nice we only take pictures during the happy times. The other times need no pictures. They are embedded in our souls, while those we have for posterity are embedded in our albums and now computers.
And how fascinating that inside each of us are all the ages we've been the little kids, the young lovers, moms and dads, and grandmas and grandpas, all there within each of us.
Love, Carol
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