One spring cleaning project this year will be going through my photographs. In basement boxes and file drawers, envelopes are stuffed with pieces of the past.
Then there are the hundreds of images on my computer’s hard drive. Into one folder named “photos” are subfolders vaguely titled “Temporary folder,” “Momentary photos,” and “Miscellaneous.”
One spring cleaning project this year will be going through my photographs. In basement boxes and file drawers, envelopes are stuffed with pieces of the past.
Then there are the hundreds of images on my computer’s hard drive. Into one folder named “photos” are subfolders vaguely titled “Temporary folder,” “Momentary photos,” and “Miscellaneous.”
Over in “My Pictures,” one may peruse files in subfolders called “Photos From Old Computer,” “Newpix,” and “Latest.” Then there is the trove of likenesses awaiting inspection in enigmatic locations such as “A Folder,” “Camera Dump,” “My Albums,” “To Be Sorted,” and “Momentary Folder,” the last two christened in the unrealistic hope I would get around to sorting through their contents momentarily.
Since occupying my new home, I’ve made only slight progress on the photo-sorting initiative. It is an endeavor not for the faint of heart, nor for those wearing their emotions on their sleeve following divorce. I tell you, there is nothing for impeding progress like pausing to weep at every other photograph unearthed from the archives.
It’s not all bad. The moments preserved were almost universally happy ones seeing photographic evidence brings back pleasant memories. Still, one cannot help looking back wistfully, remembering “the good old days” as simpler and more joyful.
Some of the sorting is all frustration: photos passed to me by my parents or other loved ones often demand explanation from those no longer alive. A few never-before-seen images give an agreeable sensation of discovery. More times than I care to admit, I gaze on an image in wonder, as in “I wonder who those other people are.”
Mostly I am grateful someone took these snapshots, candid or staged. My ex-wife’s grandmother was legendary for compelling everyone at any family gathering to pose for her Instamatic. We used to tease her about it, but I am now so thankful she created a record of the smiles, laughter, and being together that I used to take for granted.
While I fall behind on the cataloging endeavor, more shots are added to the collection. Relatives post photos to social media; my sons share what they snapped on their sophisticated phones.
And it looks like another stack of snaps will soon be added to my anthology. Found an almost completely used roll of film inside my old Canon 35mm camera. Also dug up not one or two, but three “single use” cameras, the kind meant to be used once, then given up for developing.
One of these was given to one of my offspring before a school field trip. The other two, who knows who used them and when? I am excited to see what’s on this film, and remain hopeful for good results despite one of the units suggesting, “develop before March 2006.”
I suppose the photo project has risen to the top of the list because time seems dearer to me. That is, the old saw, “I have more yesterdays than tomorrows,” is ringing rather true. Taking stock of these moments captured in time seems like the thing to do, while there is still time to do it.
Pat Grimes, a former South Bay resident, writes from Ypsilanti, Mich. He can be reached at pgwriter@inbox.com
