I realize this is a pretty long post, but it’s been on my mind for a while since some personal issues have come up. It’s me babbling on about family photographs, but to me it was worth writing.
I’m currently having a bit of a health issue that is plaguing me right now. Being bunged up, constant coughing on a ticklish spot and gagging resulting in nothing short of a panic attack is something I don’t wish upon anyone. However, it’s what I’m dealing with, and unfortunately it is affecting my writing and real-life work. I am getting better (I think), but these things are slow-going, and I must look after myself.
Now that’s out of the way, I’ll get on with it.
You see, I have a thing for old pictures. Photos taken with various cameras from the 60s into the 90s, all non-digital—they have a certain impact for some people. The ones who think these photos are important. Because they are important. For me, they are treasured memories, even if I wasn’t around. They are memories of family I never met, places I’ve never been to, and places that no longer exist today. They are a unique snapshot in time that tells a story about you, even if you aren’t yet alive.
On Saturday, I was going through some film camera research on the internet, and it kicked in me a nostalgia streak that inspired me to find my old Kodak 110 film camera. After all, I found my old Polaroid camera from the 90s. Unfortunately, I could not find it. What a bummer.
However, I took out of storage a big box of photos. I’ve always enjoyed looking at them, because it reminds me of the past and my childhood—the good old days, as one might say. Some of these photos—most of are in their original paper envelope that you got from the developer, mind you—are quite old. There’s a few old Polaroids from the 70s, but also 110 film, 120 film, 35mm film, and a square size I haven’t identified (I think it’s the 120). Those square photos I think are from when my father was quite young and in the Canadian Armed Forces.
What was my purpose for going through these photographs? Like most people, it is to reflect on the early days. We lived in an apartment here in Sudbury that was small. Right now, because of certain circumstances, I’m living alone in my existing apartment today, which I think is roughly the same size as the old place. My family lived there for decades before we moved, before I was born. I was looking at these photos of all the history that went on there. Even the ones after I was born. It got me thinking, how did we even live in such a small space?
I’m tempted to say, “very comfortably.”
I also looked at photos of my grandparent’s house and their kitchen, and thought to myself, they didn’t have half the stuff I have—they didn’t need it. They had a mug tree, stovetop kettle, and all the necessities a good grandparent has for the kitchen. And knick-knacks. Myself, I have a lot of pots and pants and stuff I don’t even remember having or owning. And our old place—we had a lot of stuff, but not that much! Now that I’m on my own, I have lots to take care of, and I shouldn’t let the amount of room I have to go into my head. If I must move, it will be to a much smaller space, and I know I won’t be able to take all these “family heirlooms” with me.
If I realized anything looking at those old photos, it’s realizing the appreciation of what we had and to make the best of it.
The other thing I realized is that I should have taken more photographs myself.
We couldn’t afford much after we moved from my first place, the apartment I lived in until I was, what, eight or nine? By then, my interests were everywhere. I got my Polaroid camera not long after (I think in 1996), but Polaroid 600 film was then, like it is now, quite expensive. I also couldn’t go far (I wasn’t very old, mind you). The Kodak 110 camera that I had still worked, and it was much cheaper to buy 110 film cartridges and get them developed via mail order.
After we moved, most of the photographs just stopped. We have some here and there, from certain trips and whatnot, but the magic was gone. Nothing left. I have no pictures of our townhouse, the other townhouse we moved to after, or even this apartment where I am now.
Photographs are documented history. When you look at a photograph of someone young, who they may or may not be long dead in the present, you just have to stop and think of those days. I remember when I was very young (perhaps four or five years old); we had lots of people here at the house for Christmas or for other events. I have stacks of these photos, and they were of happy times. These old memories are sometimes emotional for me. I just can’t help it. Sometimes, I just wish it to be 1991 again.
You know, as the older generations slowly dissolve out of existence, it’s important that the memory and physical representation of who and what they were stay intact. That’s what family photos do. They preserve a family’s legacy—the good times and the bad—and the snapshots in time of places that once existed in the days of youth but no longer survive. It’s completely understandable for some to not want to revisit those times. But for others, it is a happy place, a part of the mind one can retreat to when one needs comfort during those bad times. That’s what old family photos do for me.
The apartment building where I first lived still exists. I contemplated going there once or twice, just to see how much it changed. I could probably do that at anytime and walk through to see the outside. It would be nice to see how much of the inside survived, but I doubt the family who lives there now would let me in!
I have fond memories of that place. The 80s were great, and so were the early 90s. As an adult, it doesn’t feel the same anymore. Here, in the 2020s, I have nothing to offer in preservation.
Out of all those photographs, the three things I learned during this time are:
- Appreciate the small space I had and work with that.
- I should have taken a better interest in life and be a better person.
- A rapid realization of how just how old the pots and pans I’ve been using. I was looking at photos from the 70s and noticed just how many of those things I still use. Because they are in good working order, and following on this:
- That some stuff back then is as useable as it is today. Just because it isn’t new or trendy doesn’t mean it should be thrown out. Use it. Make sure they get used as they once were used.
I think it’s time I returned to those days and start documenting life the way my family used to. In photographs. I’ve always wanted to do more photo stuff myself—I got my Polaroid cameras, after all—but I have done nothing that would be personal to me since the 90s. I want to leave something behind that said who I was and what my world was like. And when I meet that special someone, they would become part of this large collection as well. I think it’s a great idea.
As soon as I feel better, of course.