When I was little, I loved to look at photographs.
I would ask my mother about the people in the pictures.
Legendary Aunt Midge.
My mother’s father.
My dad’s sister Mary Lou who had passed away when I was very young.
We had photo albums filled with pictures from the past.
Looking at the photos was like a time machine.
There was my dad before he enlisted in the Marines.
On the next page, my parents’ wedding and all of the relatives who attended.
Sometimes, I took the photos out of the album. I held them reverently, like a talisman.
I can remember the feel of the photos.
I know we had significantly fewer photos of days gone by back then.
Today, we have unlimited storage and the ability to photograph whatever we want as many times as we want.
We can use family photos as screen savers, desktop backgrounds, phone icons, etc.
Our computer can page through the photos for us on a screen.
Call me nostalgic, but digital photos do not hold the same lure of mystery as the photos from my youth.
Perhaps I revere the old, faded photographs more because they came from a magical, impressionable time in my life.
Or maybe they were just better.
A concrete, physical reminder of days gone by, people no longer with us.
I suppose our children will page through our digital photographs one day and feel the same way.