Yes, I agree with Jitu. The baby is so cute. I've seen some of these photos before, but I appreciate more this time. Your mother on the photo is walking like an aristocratic lady and the photo captured that even though they are moving. That's amazing. Look at the dainty purse! I bet it was an envy of all the girls then.
Keiko and Jitu, the baby I was says thanks :-D Keiko, I know exactly like my mother felt, because I held that same hand many years later. You feel like nothing bad is ever going to happen to you.:-)
I love those photos. the sequence from the oldest photos, with the youngest version of your grandfather, to the most recent, with him as an old man, is especially poignant. One feels the irremediable loss of the past. Where has it gone? Is it anywhere preserved, other than in memories (for a generation or so) or photos? Is there somewhere a place where we can go to live those times again?
And then I realize we don't want to live those times again, only selected bits. Memory, photos, literature: they filter the past. And we are grateful for that.
4 comments:
wonderful collection of old memories, and what a cute baby you were.
Lu,
Yes, I agree with Jitu. The baby is so cute. I've seen some of these photos before, but I appreciate more this time. Your mother on the photo is walking like an aristocratic lady and the photo captured that even though they are moving. That's amazing. Look at the dainty purse! I bet it was an envy of all the girls then.
Keiko and Jitu, the baby I was says thanks :-D
Keiko, I know exactly like my mother felt, because I held that same hand many years later. You feel like nothing bad is ever going to happen to you.:-)
I love those photos. the sequence from the oldest photos, with the youngest version of your grandfather, to the most recent, with him as an old man, is especially poignant. One feels the irremediable loss of the past. Where has it gone? Is it anywhere preserved, other than in memories (for a generation or so) or photos? Is there somewhere a place where we can go to live those times again?
And then I realize we don't want to live those times again, only selected bits. Memory, photos, literature: they filter the past. And we are grateful for that.
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