My Family Pictures Were Unmanageable

Here’s the strategy I used to downsize them

Photo by sarandy westfall on Unsplash

The quest to simplify my surroundings started after my son died. He was disabled and lived with me and my second husband, Neal. A grief counselor advised me not to make any big decisions for a year. I desperately wanted to sell our big empty house and get away from it all, but instead I cut my hair. I needed a change.

It’s been over two years now and the house still feels too big and empty. I still want to sell it and move out of the valley I’ve lived in all my life. I want to be someplace new, in a smaller home, with less maintenance and in proximity to some of the things I want to do with the time I have left on this earth.

That will mean quitting my part time job and living on less income. It means tossing or donating massive amounts of stuff. Some things, like pots and pans, are easy. It’s also time to let go of sentimental items I’ve been holding onto because of who or where they came from. Out they go, no regrets.

But family pictures? I have half a closet full, including some left by my mother. The letters, trinkets, and some photos that belonged to my mother have already been packed and mailed to younger relatives who wanted them.

What’s left are mostly photos of my seven children. I asked for four (the maximum number of) copies every time I developed a roll of film, in anticipation of future arguments after I die.

Before you scream “Scan them,” my oldest daughter did that ages ago. I have a DVD. Does anyone still have a DVD player? I don’t, and I worry the disk could corrupt with age.

I tried to give the whole lot to my oldest son, who took them agreeably. But a year later he returned the boxes, saying he no longer had room in his garage. Now it’s up to me.

I bought seven self-adhesive picture albums and dug in. When my teenaged grandson saw what I was doing, he said, “I’d like to have one of those.” Sorry kid, your baby pictures are all digital. I only have paper copies of his school photos.

Soon I discovered there are way more photographs of the oldest three than there are of the younger children. I started with the second child, my oldest daughter, because I’m planning to visit her soon.

Her album filled up quickly. At first, I tried to make it chronological but quickly gave up. I put pictures of her wherever they fit, and I didn’t balk at trimming empty space. I discarded the ones that only depicted scenery, wild animals or buildings.

I tossed anything blurry, ripped or defaced. Photos in frames were removed; frames were tossed or donated. I got rid of yellowed, rotting albums, keeping only the pictures worth saving.

I came across news clippings from my childhood and young adult years that my mother had saved: a school play, a journalism award, a picture of me as a young nurse in a news feature. Those won’t mean anything to my kids. Should I toss them? I think I should, but I haven’t yet.

My mother also kept an album of her activities in retirement, depicting her women’s groups’ events and projects. There she is, smiling, having fun with a bunch of other ladies, none of whom I recognize. What am I supposed to do with that?

I have enough pictures of my mom with my dad or my children, on family trips, at birthdays, graduations, weddings and anniversaries. I’m glad to know she enjoyed her golden years, but I was not a part of it. There is one detail though, that tells me where this album should go. My mother hand-made every dress she is wearing in those photographs.

She was a talented seamstress. One of my granddaughters is studying fashion and textiles in college. I will offer it to her, proof that the passion she developed was passed down from an earlier generation of dressmakers.

Once the first new album was filled, I noted only a slight dent in the hoard of family pictures. I started one for my youngest daughter, who had fewer photos but enough to fill 3/4 of an album. I can imagine her four youngsters pouring over the evidence that their mother was once their age.

Then I made one for my oldest son, the one who didn’t have room for the entire collection. Surely, he can find space for one or two albums. First kids are the ones who have to put up with parent paparazzis. Once siblings come along, there is much less time to take photographs, and infancy becomes old hat.

After three more albums were filled or partially filled, my stock of print pictures were reduced to one small box of duplicates and a stash of ancestral images, along with a few collections that were already ensconced in quality albums that I managed to put together years ago, when the memories were fresh and before I got too busy or lazy to do more.

I will keep those for myself. We took some wonderful vacations and my picture-taking skills gradually improved, so they still look good. Fabulous moments were captured; those happy memories might come in handy when I’m no longer overwhelmed by the sheer volume of my pictures. With only two or three photo albums, I think I will want to sit down with a cup of herbal tea and thumb through evidence of a life well lived.