I’m a better photographer than Colleen. My skill has been honed to pay attention to detail. It’s knowledge, experience, and better equipment (cameras). Colleen can weave and spin. I am a mere amateur compared to her skill. Ask me to weave anything and I would be at a complete loss. She was looking for old family shots (another story). To protect the innocent, these are old shots of family pets. They are treasured memories to her. Period. Wistfully, I wish they were better and did the beloved pet more justice. By comparison, out of hand, I know the essentials and had the tool to get (better) portraits of our cats, by the hundreds, so far. Sorry, I am truly sorry, I was not there to preserve Colleen’s dear memories. My regret lacks the words to convey the feeling. Precious photos are not always good photos. They are the anchors that crystalize happy memories and the names of beloved pets now departed.
My raison d’etre to photograph is have/kept an historical record of my family. I failed, though I did what I could. There are precious few photos of us before the 1960’s. They are all the more precious because they are so few. Ha ha, I have about a million pics (not all of family) on external hard drives.
This photo was in the collection of my aunt’s husband and my cousin David somehow shared them. It’s bittersweet on many levels. And the stories? Lost! Everyone has since died. I never thought to really ask about my mother’s life and family. I know even less about my father. In fact, I really only have a single pic that comes to mind (regarding dad). Wistful. Nostalgic. Who will care about my collection when I am gone?
My mother, my aunt, they were dressed in hat and tie. Ummm? Why? Dress up? They’re adults. Bold? Rebellious? It’s so odd. An oddity. I never would’ve guessed. Alas, a story lost.