A picture is worth a thousand words.
I contemplated that thought this week as I looked around my house at all the photographs. Honestly, I have hundreds of them — everywhere. They are in frames on my tables and displayed on the walls, and there are probably hundreds tucked away in boxes and albums in my cabinet.
Despite my somewhat unorganized filing system, I love all of my photos. And every once in a while, I drag them out and take a walk down memory lane.
Pictures capture the special moments in our lives and help us preserve those memories.
I have photos from my childhood, my prom, my senior year, family gatherings, vacations, church trips and everything in between, as I am sure we all do.
In their own special way, those photos tell the story of my life.
People could look back 100 years from now and learn a lot about me just by looking at those pictures. They would know who my family is, who my friends are, and what I was involved in during my lifetime.
And because they hold such wonderful memories, people typically begin taking photos as soon as a child is born.
When I was working in Troy, Ala., I did a story on a baby’s first hours and what process the family has to go through. I took so many pictures of the little guy that I swear he started putting his hands in front of his face and nuzzling closer to his mom as if to say, “Will you please quit taking my picture. Can’t a little guy get any rest around here?”
We all had a good laugh when he started doing that.
I guess my thoughts about photographs and their importance started last weekend, when my mother brought me the new pictures of my niece, Kinsley Rae.
She is now three months old, and my how she has grown.
Thanks to those photos, I can look at Kinsley every day and remember her during these early years, especially since I live more than two hours away and only visit every few weeks.
While photos may help us preserve history, there are some who just don’t care to have their picture taken — much like the little guy in Troy.
My daddy and my nephews would rank in that category, and now that the nephews are older, they let me know just how much they dislike my camera.
But by nature of my trade, I have become the official family photographer for every holiday, special event and vacation.
I took my sister and brother-in-law’s engagement picture for the newspaper, as well as all the photos at their wedding reception.
If folks know you can take a decent photo, they tend to call on you when a special occasion comes along.
But it is my pleasure to help them mark those milestones in their lives.
My sister and brother have had me take photos of their boys since they were born. And I already have taken dozens of Kinsley in the three short months she’s been with us.
When the boys were small, there was no problem. They would smile and let me get away with it from time to time.
But last summer, when we took a vacation to the beach, I had to sneak around to get photos. And when I did get them to cooperate, there would be the traditional weird smile and silliness that comes with being a young boy.
Little do they know how much they will treasure those pictures when they get to be as old as their Aunt Jenny.
I know I look back at photos from my childhood and school days and wonder where that young girl went. Those were the good old days — days I didn’t appreciate nearly enough when I was living them.
I have come to treasure my photographs more than any other personal possession. They are irreplaceable and priceless.
I’ve heard too many people who have had their homes burn say that the thing they miss most is their pictures, their memories. They can never turn back the hands of time and retake them.
While some of us may prefer to be behind the camera instead of in front of it, we should remember how important photographs are.
If nothing happens to them, they will be here years after we are gone, and they will share our history with the world.
