My wife and I are amateur genealogists, and are
obviously “taken up” with our family history, documentation and photos, and the
like.
Recently Jean discovered a treasure trove of pictures
in the home of the late latter wife of her grandfather. One of the pictures
was, for all intents and purposes, just about gone. The black and white
photograph, circa 1890, is in the process of disintegrating, and in order to
preserve what was left of it, my wife’s sister took a picture of the picture.
The photo depicts a group of eight people standing,
(well, one is an infant in her mother’s arms) on a front porch of a thatched
roofed cottage; only four of which are relatively distinguishable. (I had no
idea any Florida houses of this era had thatched roofs).
One young woman’s head is obscured, as she can be seen
standing behind my wife’s great grandmother, and only the upper half of her
face is visible. Three men on the left of the picture are visible from the waist
down. Their upper torsos and heads have faded, (well, melted might be a more
concise word) beyond recognition. And interestingly enough, there is a dog in
the foreground. He (or she) can be seen with his (or her) paws against the
chest of the individual whom my wife assumes was her great grandfather. Most of
the dog is distinguishable, as a dog, except its head.
I have often mused about the inhabitants of old
snapshots; for in essence that which is left of folks like these, (outside of
their mortal remains, which most of us would prefer not to view) resides in
these ancient yellowing photographs.
One can only wonder why the folks in the picture
assembled on the porch that day; or better yet, why these particular people
happened to be present for a planned or ad-lib photo that day. What was going
on in the lives of the adults in the picture at the time it was snapped? And
what of the infant and the little girl? Did each live out a full and productive
life? (It is curious, indeed, to think that even the “babe in arms” depicted in
this old b&w must have gone on to his (or her) reward over half a century
ago). This many years hence, it is safe to say that the pooch was loved, as my
wife’s grandfather not only allowed him to appear in the picture, but to strike
a pose standing on two legs, and cradled against his chest; one hand resting on
the old pup’s back.
Among my favorite movies is the mid-20th
century production of “The Time Machine.” How absolutely fascinating and
believable that film is.
But sadly, there are no time machines. They simply don’t
exist, and the likelihood they ever will is virtually nil.
But other than the fading memories of people who have
lived and moved and breathed, and who will ultimately go on to their reward,
the closest we will ever come to a time machine are the myriad of photos and
videos which captured life as it was, the instant it was, and before it no
longer was.
The inestimable power of a photograph to almost invite
us into the world of some whom we knew and loved, and some whom we didn’t, but
at the same time to leave us wanting for a few more precious tidbits of
information which these muted souls can no longer hope to supply.
By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 5
No comments:
Post a Comment