Photos as Memories
by Jen Collins Moore
I spend more hours than I like to think about in the Sisyphian challenge of getting caught up with my photo albums. I’m the official photographer and archivist in my family, and I believe passionately in the power of photos.
Photos commemorate happy occasions, they bring back memories, and they help mark the passage of time. But they don’t do any good sitting on my phone or camera (yes, I still use one). For them to work their magic, photos need to be available to be enjoyed. Hence, the photo albums. I create one online for each year plus “specials” for big trips, get them printed and give them a place of honor in my living room.
Sometimes months go by and these books gather dust, but other times I’ll walk by and discover one child or another on the couch paging through and admiring photos of their younger selves. They’ll ask questions about a picture, which will inevitably trigger memories of trips to playgrounds, baking projects, and big snowball fights I’d long forgotten.
My newer toy is a digital photo frame. I have one loaded up with photos, and it gives me so much pleasure to walk by and see the smiling face of a loved one, or a slice of life I’d forgotten about. Since it can store massive numbers of pictures, there’s less pressure to choose the single best photo to display on the mantle for all time, but it bothers me that I haven't taken the time to thoughtfully curate the photos on the frame. Why are there just twelve photos from 2020 but hundreds from 2019? I tell myself I can get to it when I’m up to date on my photo albums, which at the rate I’m going, will be never, and I need to be OK with that.
My simplest and, perhaps, best bang-for-the-time-buck approach is actual physical photos, the kind you can touch and feel. I use a wire rack to create displays commemorating annual events like birthdays, first day of school, and Halloween, with one photo per year. I create a display the day of the event, and after about a week I tuck the photos away until next year.
The photos aren’t artistic and are rarely the best pictures I have of each child, but they always make me smile. We get to admire the changes that have happened over time and remember small things like someone’s favorite T-shirt or what a school backpack looked like.
How does all this relate to writing? For me, photos serve as a memory catalyst for the types of details that make a story come to life.
When I looked at a photo of our first dog recently, I was instantly reminded of how she’d howl along with sirens, how thick her fur felt in my hands, and the soft nuzzling of her lips when she took a treat from my hand. Details I’d forgotten all about, but which would make an essay about her ring more true than a simple description of a sweet Shepard Mix.
When writing, it’s the details that make the stories sing, and photos can be one of the best tools a writer has for sparking the memories that inform our prose.
Photos by Jen Collins Moore