Tag Archives: old pictures

A Larger Can

5 Feb

It has been said that when you open a can of worms, you always need a larger can to put them back.?????????? All of this mess on this end of the table came out of one of my mom’s tubs. Even at that, it’s not as bad as it could be, as I have tossed a lot, and mailed off scads of pictures to various relatives.  Just to add to the  fun, The Squire decided this was a jolly good time to go through his genealogy pictures.

We are both handicapped by the fact that nobody thought to label the back of their photos. My dad had a scrapbook dating from before the time he met my mom, with lots of pictures of Carol and Mary, but no last names. There is also a small mountain of pictures from pre-war Pearl Harbor. The landscapes are all labeled, but who does he mean by “the three of us”?

The poor Squire is doubly frustrated because his aunt kept a perfect scrap book, with names, places and dates, and when she died, her daughter promised faithfully to send him “all of mom’s pictures”, which she did. By ripping every single one out of the book. When he received this lumpy package, he called her, and she was astounded that he wanted “ahl thet ol’ wrahtin’ an stuff. I just tossed that in the far.” (You need a strong Tennessee accent to do that line properly.)

I’m down to the last one or two inches of this second tub, and I may just dump it into the third tub and go do something more productive, such as catch up on my ironing.

A New Year’s Resolution…

4 Jan

…or not. You know how these things go.

I have been a member of The Daughters of the British Empire for almost twenty years, but our chapter has decided to disband. I have a ton of stuff to turn over to the District Board, so I had The Squire go out to the barn and get the most nearly empty plastic tub he could find.  Since I am still trying to go through my mom’s stuff, I figured I could kill two birds with one stone.

My mom - probably Easter the year she was 16.

My mom – probably Easter the year she was 16.

Well, the box he brought down was full of pictures. Photos of my mom as a teen, pictures of me a baby, shots my dad took at Pearl Harbor, and relatives, relatives, and more relatives.  I made up envelopes addressed to the descendants of most of these relations, and am busy sorting them out. The Squire offered to scan them and email them, but I know myself well enough (and I’ve known myself going on 73 years, now) to realize full-well that as long as those pictures are in the house, I will want to hang on to them, and then we’ll be right back where we started.

Away with you!

And, maybe – just maybe – I’ll be able to get rid of a box a month. Ought to  be through here by, oh…2017 or so.