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Your story started before you.

In this photo, there’s an angelic little girl seated on a woman’s lap. That little girl is my grandmother Louise.

She was the most loving woman I have ever met. She was my safe haven as a child; she lived on a farm and it was a magical place.

She taught me about gardening, the real way, the old way. She taught me Breton, a Gaelic dialect spoken in Brittany, France.

She taught me about life and humility. She taught me to sit in silence and listen to the world around me. She made the best crêpes in the world.

Best of all, she taught me about love – true, authentic love.

This beautiful little girl in an old photograph grew up to be someone’s Saint.

My Saint. ~ shared by @hoopgirlatheart

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Never forget that the quietest moments often sing stories of resounding love. Photos help us hear those tunes.

One year ago yesterday my Grandfather passed away suddenly.

I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed the way this man always pulled me aside and said, “Honey, I’ll tell you something; you are quite a beautiful young lady.” I found this photo among some postcards to my Grandma from his service in WWII.

On the back it simply says, “me, writing you a postcard from Switzerland.” ~shared by @growsweetjoy

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“To collect photographs is to collect the world. Movies and television light up walls, flicker, and go out; but with still photographs, the image is also an object — easy to carry about, accumulate, store.” – Susan Sontag

They are artifacts of our existence. They are moments, memories and meaning.

Here’s a simple but wonderful example.

This is my great-grandparents getting goofy in a photo booth.

It was taken in a matter of minutes in the 1960s, yet the image is as alive today as it was back then.

I am so lucky to have it. ~ shared by @evangeline_thefallofeve

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My grandmother was a true classic.

She didn’t want to be called Grandma. Her name was Barbara, but I couldn’t pronounce it properly as a child. So, she became “Baba.” She died when I was very little so I never got to know her as well as I would have wished. But my Mom shares with me the memory of Baba taking her and her sister to San Francisco for the day. In the early 1950’s, the city was a much fancier place, so they would get dressed up in their nicest clothes and take the F train across the single-story Bay Bridge from Berkeley, where they lived.

They would go shopping at Macy’s and get ice cream sundays at Bloom’s in the basement.

After exploring the city, they would finish their day at the Top of the Mark with a dinner overlooking the entire city.

This simple story means so much to me because San Francisco will always have a piece of my heart. I lived there for five years and I consider it my second home. There’s a piece of Baba there too, and a piece of our family legacy. ~ shared by @sarah_inpursuit

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“Human beings need to tell stories. Stories are not simply nice things to have; they are essential survival tools. And yes, the stories we tell ourselves are just as important as the stories we tell other people.” -Hugh MacLeod

Meet my great-grand-uncles, John and Patrick Murray.

In 1886, John (left) sold some of their father’s cattle and ran off to New York City with the money. He opened Murray’s Hotel on 42nd street, then married, had a family and died in 1916.

Murray’s Hotel is long gone, but Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum is located on the former site of the hotel today. ~ shared by @davidlewisgunning

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How cool were they?

The “Pan-man” and artist (my Grandfather) with the Tailor (my Grandmother). This photo was taken in Trinidad, circa 1959.

My Grandfather played the Steel Drum, or “Pan,” which is the reason for the name “Pan Man.” The first steel drum, or pan, was invented around World War II in Trinidad.

My grandparents are the reason I draw, design, love fashion, menswear, music, and play pan and everything else. ~ shared by @ms_natalya_m

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“Your own photography is never enough. Every photographer who has lasted has depended on other people’s pictures too – photographs that may be public or private, serious or funny – but that carry with them a reminder of community.” -Robert Adams

Our granddaughter Emma, who is four years-old, is learning to swim.
She’s quite the little swimmer.

We’ve told her she must have some DNA from her great-grandad, who was captain of the swim team at Yale in 1926.

I scanned one of his team photos (he’s here in the center) so Emma’s coach can use it as a little encouragement and inspiration. ~shared by @ned_bunnell

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What treasures wait patiently in boxes?

This is one of the best pictures I’ve ever seen. My mom and I found this while digging through a box of old photos which I’d never seen before.

These are my grandparents, Don and Joan Gulick, on their wedding day, August 21st in the early 1950’s.

My grandparents are two of the most important people in the world to me; they helped raise my sister and me.
My grandmother died 15 years ago, so anything I can find of hers is something I treasure, but this picture is something special.

It’s so beautifully candid and captures how in love and happy they were. They were married almost 50 years when she died and still just as in love as the day this was taken. ~shared by @jurassikate

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My grandmother, whom I always called Nana, is the most incredible woman I will ever know.

Born on January 19th, 1922, she had a rough childhood. Her mother left the family, which was unheard of back then. So, Nana and her siblings were left to fend for themselves. She went to work as a maid for room and board. She was 9 years old.

Nana used to tell me stories and I learned to listen, not just “hear” what she said, but really LISTEN. I spent most of my childhood at her house; there was a special bond between us.

One of my favorite memories was from a summer overnight stay. One of those light transformers exploded, right down the street. Of course, everyone was scared. But Nana came in and said not to worry.

We went outside; everyone in the neighborhood was out. I was about 6 years old.

It was a hot summer night and Nana lived next to an Italian Deli. The owner started handing out lemon Italian ice to us kids. I brought mine back to Nana’s house and sat next to her on the front porch swing. It was pitch black.

At that very moment, she pointed and told me to look up. “At what?” I replied.

She said, “The Moon…do you see it? Look really close. You can see the Man on the Moon if you look hard.” And I swear, I saw it. It felt like the most amazing thing for a kid to witness.

Last year I got a tattoo on my inside forearm that says, “To The Moon And Back” because of Nana. ~shared by @_jenn_41671_

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Family photos don’t belong in a box.

This photo was found whilst clearing out our family home of 22 years. It was taken by my Dad from the first floor of our family home in London.

It was 1980, and I imagine it was one of the few hot days we get in the summer.

My Mum is lounging in a tartan jumpsuit and white loafers, the height of fashion at the time!

My sister Sophie, the blondest blonde of all time, is sitting with the older girl from next door.

An ice cream cone is on the ground, whilst pussy the cat (that was the cat’s real name) eyes it longingly.

My Dad wasn’t a photographer, but he always seemed to capture beautiful moments without realising.

Cameras and video cameras were always present whilst we were growing up.

Dad passed away 6 years ago, so these photos became even more important to me. It makes me feel happy, as I can imagine my Dad looking out of that window, and feeling so proud of his wife and first daughter, who don’t seem to have a care in the world. ~ shared by @chloeslloyd

#savefamilyphotos #familyphotos #familyphoto #ancestry #familyhistory #oldfamilyphotos #vintagephotos #filmisnotdead #vintagephoto #oldphoto #oldphotos #ancestors #familyalbum #tbt #throwback #throwbackthursday