My son asked if I’d look through his baby pictures and send him a funny one for a work contest. I had a particular picture of him in mind and told him I’d look and email it to him. Three hours later, I found the picture, but the looking was much more worthwhile than the find.

These days, most of us take pictures with our cell phones. Our phones are easy – point, press a button and there’s an image to send to dozens of people in a matter of minutes. While I love the convenience and ability to capture the moment using a cell phone as a camera, we’re sacrificing having pictures we can linger over without electronics.

This summer, my sister pulled out the old photo albums at my mom’s house, and we talked about almost every picture we came across. My mom added details like her going-away outfit was baby blue, a fact we didn’t know because the photo was black and white.

She told us about life back in the Depression and how her family worked together during those trying times. With the aid of pictures, I could see my grandparents and my parents back when the world was an unknown journey stretching out in front of them.

My dad on the deck of a U.S. Navy destroyer.

My mom in a two-piece bathing suit at Virginia Beach.

My grandparents at their 50th wedding anniversary.

As we went through the albums, those pictures triggered memories of almost-forgotten barbecues, toddler Easter egg hunts and lazy Sunday afternoons playing board games.

I thought about that afternoon with my sister and mom as I searched for my son’s baby picture. I started with an album from our early married days, and moved on through our move to Texas and trips we’ve taken over the years.

There was a picture of my father on the back of a three-wheeler, smiling and in good health, and I stared at that picture a long time, tracing his face in the photo.

The photo of my grandfather – so young and dashing – reminded me of my brother, Jimmy, who inherited our grandfather’s kindness and generosity. There’s my grandmother in her young days, and I realize her smile lives on in my sister’s grin.

I lingered over pictures of my sons from birth all the way to manhood. There’s a picture of my middle son asleep on my chest. Seeing that picture reminded me of how wonderful it feels to have a newborn snuggle up under my chin.

Then I came across some pictures of myself as a young woman. When I think back on those times, I envision a frazzled, plump woman who missed out on opportunities. When I look at the photos, though, I see a pretty girl having fun with her kids, a young woman who was present at the important milestones in life.

Those pictures are a visual reminder that we are who we are and we were who we were. Instead of being so judgmental, I’m glad I have pictures of all of us, including myself, throughout the years and hope I can one day sit down with my grandchildren and lead them through a family journey, just as my mom did with me.

My son’s picture in hand, I realized there’s still plenty of room in the photo album. I think it’s time to go back to having photos printed. Those will be here long after the battery dies in my cell phone or the technology no longer supports the newest and fanciest digital device.  

But those photo albums. Those printed black-and-white pictures. Those images, and memories, last forever.
This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.