I remember my first Brownie camera. The roll of film had to be threaded through a slot and the back of the camera closed tightly not to expose it. Then the knob was cranked to get it started. I never could tell if the film caught on the teeth of the roller, so I always opened the back of the camera to check and ruined some of the film. Flash bulbs were needed for indoor shots and there was always so much trash. That’s back when green was just a color in the crayon box.

The camera I have now scares me. It has setting for everything. I know I could almost be professional if I only understood a few of them. Occasionally I take an outstanding picture, purely by accident. It probably would help if I took an hour and read the instruction book.

I have thousands of pictures. I’m digging through boxes of them today to put together picture boards and a video for Dad’s memorial service. How do I choose which ones to use? I get so distracted and my memories wander. It’s wonderful and sad all at the same time.

Sorting through several generations of snapshots, I’ve realized our lives are made up of our memories. The older you get the more you gather. I’m so grateful to sit in the middle of the floor surrounded by reminders of how blessed I am.