The Collective Memory

And why it's important

Recently, I saw a video of a comedian who was making jokes about his family flipping through photo albums and oohing and aahing over pictures of their great-grandparents doing amazing things. Grandma is on a horse, Grandpa is with the Wright Brothers, and Aunt is on top of the Empire State Building. He was lamenting the fact that the current generation if they have photos at all, will have to label them as “Grandma’s random sandwich” or “Aunt bathroom selfie.”

It doesn’t have the same elan as previous generations, for whom the technology of photography was new, and they actually went outside and did things. There was a joie de vivre that emanates from the old sepia-toned photos that are entirely missing from present-day duck-lipped selfies.

I was remembering (poorly, my apologies to the comedian) this bit of dialogue on my walk the other day and I think it is because I woke that morning with this feeling that I had dreamed about my brother.

He was very much on my mind that morning, and I was carrying around the sadness that accompanies missing someone. Since we had a few birthdays here recently, coupled with my slight melancholy, I pulled out a few albums, looked up some photos on the computer, and shared with the children some memories of their babyhood and mine.

High school aged Jim and I at my grandparent’s anniversary party