Picture the Memories

A reminder to ensure a ready supply of pictures for your memorial montage.

I attended a memorial service recently for a fraternity brother whom I hadn’t seen or spoken with in nearly forty years. Very sad, for a number of reasons:

• He was taken too soon - forty years since college is not nearly long enough; if I had said that I hadn’t seen him in 75 years, then you could assume that he had lived a long, productive life.

• He left behind several daughters, and other loved ones, who clearly miss him.

• He and I were the same age, and no one likes a pointed reminder of their own mortality.

This being the age of coronavirus, the memorial service was conducted via FaceBook Live. The service was very well-constructed, as his daughters and his brother, and his grandchildren all shared memories of their lives with Bill, and one of the grandchildren sang a song in his honor - it may have been “Carry On, Wayward Son”, by Kansas - I don’t remember. (Ed. note: In the late ‘70’s we were all Kansas fans, those attending school in the state of Kansas particularly so).

But what struck me most about the service was the photo montage compiled by one of the grandchildren, and which was shared, with musical accompaniment, at the end of the service. There must have been five hundred photos of Bill at various stages of his life: baby pictures, youthful pictures with his brother, high-school football and graduation pictures, fraternity party pictures (the only ones in which I recognized Bill), wedding day pictures, pictures with his baby daughters, and as they got older, playful pictures with them, their wedding day pictures, pictures with his grandchildren, and bunches of pictures with his dad through the years.

So, it got me thinking: What photos have I stored up in my arsenal, which can be unfurled at my memorial? I don’t think I have the storehouse of photos which Bill’s family was able to tap into, for a couple of reasons:

• My dad was fond of taking pictures of lone birds on the beach, rather than pictures of his four children, and those were disposed of when we cleaned out his home, after his death. We could instead have mounted a one-man exhibition in a small Manhattan gallery featuring his work, entitled, “Lone birds on a beach,”, but alas, another missed opportunity.

• The ease of taking and storing pictures and videos digitally arrived in our household too late to be of real use to us. We had one of those video cameras (recorded on VHS tapes), which weighed roughly forty-seven pounds, and consequently was rarely hoisted, via crane, to one’s shoulder to capture the moment.

• My children, and grandchildren now live in remote locales, spread across the United States from Vermont to Colorado, and we rarely connect with them in person, which would enable photo opportunities; also. . .COVID. . .

But, thankfully, I have been able to lay my hands on three photos which I believe could form the cornerstone of a respectable photo montage at my memorial service. These timeless mementos follow:

This picture, likely taken in the early ‘70’s, includes me and my three siblings (that’s me on the left), decked out in our little-league regalia - cute, huh? That “W” cap, by the way, represented the Washington Senators, not the Washington Nationals.

This one is a bit more difficult to explain, but that’s me (again on the left) with Miss July, 2009. There’s a modestly amusing story behind this photo, but I’ll save that for another time.

The final choice of the three is this one, with me and my dad, shortly before his death a couple of years ago - you know, the genius behind the “Lone birds on a beach,” exhibition, which might have caused a minor sensation in a small Manhattan gallery.

As you can see, I favor being on the left in photographs (not necessarily aligned with my politics), and I’m well on my way to providing plenty of photographic fodder for my memorial. I encourage you to build your inventory - your loved ones will appreciate it.