My dear Ruthi,
By definition, nostalgia doesn’t seem like the most joyful of words or experience. So perhaps I have joy all mixed up and turned on its head. For me, going back in time is a joyful adventure.
Today, I got lost in my basement. I got lost in bins and bins of photo albums and frames and photos. Mine. And my dad’s. Such fun. Such joy. Such a mess I made!
I was searching for a few things, two of which I found in the bin with my dad’s old, old albums.
This one. This is my paternal grandmother napping.
I absolutely love this photo (here love = joy) because never did I ever think she napped. I mean, she had twelve kids, and I just sort of assumed she never slept. Like ever. And just in case you don’t know how many kids twelve kids is, well, this is twelve kids.
Can you imagine? I cannot! And I know them all!
(Naps. They’re joyful. More so in the prospect of having one than in the act of having one because, you know, you’re asleep and all.)
This was another that I was in search of. This photo is of my dad putting together photo albums just like the album in which this photo is found.
(Photos. They’re joyful. I love so much about them. Old ones. New ones. My ones. My dad’s ones. I think I got the itch and the eye from him.)
I’m a little confused as to how my dad is actually in so many of his pictures. Selfies of the 40s and 50s were quite a bit harder to come by than in 2020. But photos to document his life seemed like a priority. One I’m grateful for. It’s pretty cool to have have pix of your parents when they first started dating (circa 1953). Some tunes on the beach with his babe? Or rather, some tunes on the beach with her babe?
And this one is hilarious. It’s of my parents out on a date.
Just not with each other! (My mom on the left with the man in the spectacles, and my dad with his arm around the woman on the right.)
Life can be pretty funny Ruthi. Who knows which way it’s gonna turn!
Anyways, that was some joy for me today. More joy to be found tomorrow.