Family Photos & Storytelling - Emotional Support for Identity

Keeping Photograph Albums despite Technology

Today I was reading a touching blog by a young lady who happened upon some old photographs. Several things went through my mind as I read her lament over not knowing more about her grandparents. One photo showed her grandmother smoking - and it shocked her. She hadn't known her grandmother was a smoker, nor was smoking embedded in the girls' childhood memory schemas.

The girl, surprisingly mature for what I had come to expect from millennials; reflected on several cognitive layers, realizing how much folks she barely knew -really loved her, realizing that they and her parents, have tender memories of her that she'll never consciously share (I suppose there's always hypnosis) – they remember her as toddler – she's unable to access those memories without a 'mind practitioner' to assist; and she felt the emotional loss of not knowing. Which I thought was pretty deep for an afternoon coffee & looking over old photographs.

Refine & Define Yourself

She put the photos on the wall so she could look at them daily. From other details in her blog, it was clear she had also lost one of her parents. It's not fair to judge other families – yet this girl clearly longs for what I had samples of as a child. Photographs are a powerful and emotional medium that can bind a family. She was joyed yet dismayed by the waves of emotions – and mental unknowing – these photos evoked in her.

As a child – my grandmother Jones kept photo albums. Lots and lots of them. When I'd visit in the summers, her stories, and my uncles were my favorites. The summertime would get hot & humid in the early afternoon. It was hard to get us kids to settle down. She'd turn on the air conditioning (a plush luxury in the 1970's) in the parlor – and after we'd washed the playground dirt off, we'd be invited into the parlor.

Create Your Heritage

Now in a proper southern home, the parlor is not the same room as the living room or "tv room". The parlor was a very special room, just inside the front door of the house. If there were a foyer with a door to the parlor, you'd be in a mansion. Grandmother Jones presided over a grand-house instead. The front porch became the "buffer zone" a foyer would have provided in a status conscious culture. Guests who were invited inside the house were very special indeed. And the room was designed to demonstrate the personality of the home, as well as the status. Being able to sit on the cool leather couch while waves of refreshing cold air wafted over us - chilled our overheated bodies. And since this room was similar to a "crest" as far as representing the family – a very special bookcase contained the family Bible for linage and photo albums sat along a far wall.

Organize Your Photos

Grandmother would pull an album off the shelf and we'd all settle down and listen for what foxy sayings she'd weave into her stories. Grandmother was a storyteller. She knew how to take an old tale and stretch it in new directions. My Uncle Tecy would have you in stitches with his comic twists. While I only had a few precious summers – this poor girl seemed to have none, just a box of photos and lots of unanswered questions.

My life hasn't been easy. And – like most people – I have to make a choice daily to be happy. Then form the habits that make those choices manifest my desires into reality. Something worth taking a photograph of – and with who. I sit and take a few moments to be thankful for what I do have and to try and remember, there are many in this world who have far less of their lineage than either she or I. We just have to hug & love each other for where we are at on our journey and give loving support for growth.

She may never get the answers she seeks, yet I wish her the peace that comes from knowing there was – and is – and will be – love in those bonds. May blessings be

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