by Ethan S. Fogg
As I look back at spring and early summer, I smile at my annual traditions – the activities that define my life in the Finger Lakes. Spring cleaning, staging the screened porch, storing wool sweaters and snow shovels and other items I reconsider each year: Is this one a keeper?
A gatherer by nature and a curator by nurture, I come by my keeping honestly. Plus, I share a large home with a fellow keeper. It would seem I have no choice but to be an aesthetic maximalist, so I feel duty-bound to share some of my keepings with you.
As this is the beginning of our time together, I’d like to introduce you to my family. Five generations are represented here in black and white images and daguerreotypes. The artifacts themselves are a great introduction to the joys and richness of keeping, but these particular pieces matter more. They matter differently. They are both of and from the keepers who went before me.
I’ve learned a lot about my family from these keepers. Names, dates, places, work and military service … and what mattered to these people, many of whom I’ve never met. For sure there were more photos where these came from, but these survived generations of raising kids, relocation, estate sales and the like. They’re tombstones, trail markers, a who’s who of my kin.
One trip to an antique or second-hand store will remind you that, almost two decades after the iPhone was first introduced, photos still matter in our culture. Small, easily stored and fun to explore, they’re neat to look at and add texture and depth to practically any decor. Plus, if you’re lucky, they’re marked on the back with names or dates or places. Story.
In the last few years, I’ve donated quite a lot of photos to a museum in Maine that honors the legacy of my father’s people. In addition to the knowledge that these items will be preserved, what began as a simple parcel delivery became an introduction to several other “keepers” – friends I’ve made in a community where my family’s roots run deep. Together, we’re reminded that what we choose to keep and share can connect us to people, places and things we didn’t know we were missing. Best of all, it’s free. And it’s priceless.
As summer becomes fall and I begin another cycle of annual traditions, perhaps we’ll meet at a yard sale or in a coffee shop. I’ll be the one looking for my next keeper: an old photograph, a new friend, perhaps a fond memory of our meeting.
