I found a couple cardboard boxes of old photos a few weeks ago (mostly of me – not ’cause I’m egotistical or anything, but my mother gave all my baby pictures to my wife a while back). Since then I’ve been pecking away at scanning them all into the computer to join the 15,000+ digital photos I’ve taken. I kinda figger it’d be nice to have them all in one place…
Here’s a nice picture of me and my mother. I’m the younger one.
I’ve been enjoying the photos and memories, seeing my brother and sister when they were little. And it’s fun to see my parents when they were young and wonder what they were like before they had kids.
But today I had a bad thought. I hate those. But they happen occasionally. “Why am I doing this?” I thought to myself. “I don’t have kids. In 30 years, who’s going to care that I carefully saved all of my baby photos?” The thought depressed me so much I skipped my daily Esperanto lesson. Will anyone look back at my photos and think, “Hmmm… Great uncle Chris looked silly with short hair,” or will my archives slowly molder away, gradually becoming as obsolete as all those college papers I saved on a 5.25″ floppy?
I’m going to keep scanning, though. There must be a purpose to this.