I'm spending some days in the upstairs of this old house. The one I grew up in, and returned to live about 6 years ago.
There are tons of pictures to be sorted. Some of my mother's family, some of my husband's family, my family, and so much more.
I wrote about the stoppage of time in 1952 here when my grandmother, Minnie, died. I wasn't around until 1956, so I never had the opportunity to know her. Except through my Daddy's recollections. Those came only occaisionally.
But I have a treasure trove of pictures, letters, and insane stacks of household bills from the late 20's until her passing. A suitcase full of postcards she collected from 189? until shortly before she died.
There are also a few letters and a lot of pictures from my grandfather's side as well. As I am a geneaology freak, I have plans for these. Many of them have names and dates. Some of them are of people I'll never be able to identify. Maybe.
I have a fascination for these things that should have been garbage seventy years ago. Bits of paper with ancient information. Fragile pieces of wood pulp once held by hands long turned to dust.