Missing persons

I have an envelope of smiling faces I don’t know. I have a locket with a stranger inside. I have a lost child in my cedar chest.

My mom and my Aunt Judy gave me an envelope of photos that belonged to my Ma-Maw Lipscomb that have no IDs. I have no idea who they are, but I can’t throw them away. One of my most prized possessions is my Ma-Maw’s locket. I think it belonged to her mother, and inside is a woman’s image. My great-great-grandmother? I don’t know. In my cedar chest, I have a framed photo of a nameless child who grew up to be one of my ancestors. I think we all have these mysterious missing persons in our families.

One of the saddest sights in an antique store is the box of cold case files. You know the one. It’s on a dark and dusty shelf and contains hundreds of photos, memories on sale to whoever wants them. How would you like it if your great-great-great-granddad’s face ended up on the walls of a Cracker Barrel?

I can’t urge you enough to write names on the backs of your photos and to organize and name digital photos so that others know whose image they see. Make scans of old photos and share them with your relatives and friends. Don’t let a lifetime of memories disappear through an accidental delete. Don’t create more missing persons! (I promise less of a rant next post. :) )