It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life."
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Stuff, stuff, stuff. We are still going through my parents’ stuff, even some three years after my father’s death, some five years after my mother’s. My brother recently dropped off another box of things at my house (I wrote about the old dolls of my father’s earlier this month); today, I started to weed through some of the photographs.
What to do with all these photographs? There is one very large manila envelope, stuffed with small photos; there are folders with larger photos. Mind you, my brothers and I went through family photos at the time of our parents’ deaths. I already brought home so many, and tried my best to sort through them or, at least, box them up and put them in a new corner.
I need to find that box and add in these photos. I just can’t deal.
In the midst of these loose photos was an album. Curious, I flipped this open, only to find that it was filled with photos of our Navy quarters at Portsmouth Naval Shipyard, in Kittery, Maine. This was a very impressive home, built in the 1700s. Let me show you a picture from the album:
The photos in the album are dated 1981, which is the year we moved from these quarters, when Dad was transferred to another shipyard. The entire album is still photos of every room in the house. Honestly, that is all that is in this album – photos of every room, captured from four or five different angles. There are no words of explanation and no people in any of the photos, whatsoever. It is like a sterile real estate advertisement, something that is rather unnecessary when the only people who live in this house are assigned to live in this house.
The house is historical, and the Navy already has a published book about the home, one that is also in the pile of stuff from my parents. Yet, someone – Dad? – went through every room of the house and took a photograph, and made a photo album.
To remember what, exactly?
The memories it taps for me are some of my saddest ones. I was in college when we lived in this house, so I only lived there during school breaks. My parents’ marriage at this time was filled with acrimony, with a cold emphasis on ‘giving one another the silent treatment.’ My brothers and I were never privy to what their strife was all about, we simply had to live through it, in it, alongside it, with them. It is by no means a period of my life that I want to memorialize – except to remind myself how not to treat my loved ones.
This photo from the hallway looking into the dining room, I imagine this caption:
the polished glistening dining room it always sat empty while Dad and Mom held silent and apart and we all walked on eggshells
What to do with this dang photo album?
Find a bigger box, and put it up and away, until my head is in a different space for dealing with such blues.
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My husband and his siblings are cleaning out their parent’s house and holy moly, the number of photos! Some very much like yours. I am sorry that the latest photos you found do not invoke positive memories.
Yes, holy, moly, the number of photos! It is such a weird trip, to go through these. Thanks for commenting!
Oh, I can feel this. What about photos with people whose names have “all been lost to history?” Do we just keep accumulating the stuff of our ancestors?
Exactly! Do we just keep accumulating these things? For what purpose? Thank you for commenting.
Maureen,
That’s a gorgeous house, a place someone like me might look at and think it’s the home of happy, privileged, wealthy people. Yet you’re commentary so filled with sadness reminds me we never really know what happens behind closed doors. My initial thought i’d throw away what doesn’t bring you joy. Donate the photos. put them in the attic. Have them digitized. Maybe ask your children if they’ll want them some day. I gave so few photos of family, maybe one or two of my mom, none of them together. Still, I don’t envy the decision your facing. Maybe the story those photos tell is one you’d rather not revisit now, perhaps ever. Sending peace your way.
It was /is an extraordinary home. It is furnished, too – a bit like living in a museum, really. I did love its age and all these amazing details – like a hiding space, through the closet of my bedroom. A lot of stories through the years, I am sure.
I don’t want to be hasty and toss these photos/album just yet. Thinking, first, humorously – take the album next time I visit one of my four brothers and hide it at their house. (Kind of a long game of hot potato). Also, maybe try to write captions for photos and see if I get any cool story ideas…. anyhow, just going to wait a bit and see what makes sense to do with this, in time.
Maureen, I think you should burn it or throw it away, but I noticed your comment as using the album as a sort of prank. That sounds like a fun idea. I’m still reeling thinking about the eggshells you had to walk on because of your parents’ strife. I can feel your angst at not being able to deal with all these photos. Perhaps, send the album to some kind of museum. I try to remember that someone else is going to later have to make a decision about what to do with it to help me process whether to keep something or toss. Hugs to you as you deal with all these photos and some pretty painful memories.
Thanks, Barb – you are absolutely right to “remember that someone else is going to later have to make a decision”…I don’t want to just punt the problem down the field. I think this album may very well end up in the trash bin; it is quite irrelevant, since there are no real ‘family photos’ in the book. Again, thank you!
Maureen, I know that sometimes photos, even ones taken at happier times, can be the source of regret about all that has happened since. I have photos like that, too, and I do better not looking at them. Perhaps, someday, I can. But for now, no. I grew up on two islands that often had hurricanes threaten, and I am wondering if these photos you describe may have been taken for insurance purposes in case something happened and a claim had to be filed. I remember the days when the big movie recorders came out, the kind like a large shoebox you carried around on one shoulder, and we would walk through the house and make a video of everything we owned as we evacuated the island for the storm. That was a lovely home. When you’re ready, you’ll know it’s time to either pass them on or get rid of them or donate them to an organization that might could use them. If they don’t bring happiness and stress free walks down memory lane to you, they might be something your grandchildren may like to see a few of someday.
Great thinking that it may be for insurance – but, that isn’t the case here, because the furniture is all provided by the Navy at this home. I do think it may have been my parents’ final walkthrough of the home…there were a few of our belongings in the photos, but very, very few. It makes me wonder if the photos were to memorialize the place in their minds and if they were having regrets – I wonder if they wished they had lived a little more happily during their brief tenure in this old historical place. I’m imagining this, I have no idea. Though, they did go on to have a much calmer and loving relationship, in their later years.
Dealing with our parents’ stuff, both physical and mental, can be very stressful and/or exhausting. I do like the long-game-hot potato idea. Maybe add a note so someone can keep it if it brings them happier memories?
It is interesting that there is a book about the house, and then the album with no people, just rooms.
I just found some photo albums from some of my parents’ camping trips. I’m frustrated by the pictures without notations about where they were or who they were with. I bet mine end up back in a box, too.
Thank you for commenting! Yes, it is frustrating to have no notations on these many photos. I know I am not alone. I like the idea of combining the album with the historical book, and a note/description; I will make this my “hot potato” game with my brothers – thanks for the idea!
Maureen, thank you for this honest post. I have a photo album I just took apart today (that had that sticky kind of photo album that is not good for photos). Although, these photos bring me joy, I still don’t know what to do with photos anymore. There are too many albums, but it is better to look at real photos than digital, I believe.
This photo album you have, so well-described that I feel like I would recognize it if I ever run across it (maybe in the hot potato game). I wonder what will become of it. I like your idea of not being hasty about disposing of it, but someday you may decide to do that. All the best to you as you continue to look through, organize?, and store all the good photos!
I agree with you that holding a photo in your hands is better than looking at a digital; I was truly back in time, looking at these photos in the album. I don’t know what to do with the photos…but I won’t be hasty. Just thinking, for a bit. Thank you, Denise!