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“Photography, alone of the arts, seems perfected to serve the desire humans have for a moment – this very moment – to stay.” Sam Abell

I discovered my father’s old Kodachrome slides and came across this gem.

This is my Grandpa and Grandma having fun in the sun on the Jersey Shore.

My Grandpa was always a suit-and-tie kinda guy, straight laced, never went anywhere without a hat!

It just cracks me up that he spent the day at the beach in his street clothes – slacks, socks and shoes!

Plus, he’s reading the June 1960 issue of “Holiday” magazine. Holiday was travel magazine published from 1946 to 1977. It was famous for employing the world’s best writers, such as Graham Greene, and photographers, and giving them the freedom (and money) to interpret a subject in whatever way they wished. ~ shared by @lizajp11

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My grandfather is visiting me and brought a huge box of old photos, a real treasure hunt!

This one is my Grandmother, Gloria Almquist (on right) and her Jewish friend, Mimi in the 1930s.

They were forbidden to play together due to prejudice. Between 1900 and 1924, approximately 1.75 million Jews immigrated to America’s shores, the bulk from Eastern Europe. Antisemitism increased dramatically in the 1930s with demands being made to exclude American Jews from American social, political and economic life.

But my Grandmother and her friend Mimi maintained a secret friendship, and my Grandmother kept this photo through all these years. ~ shared by @jennylee_1011

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Meet my grandparents, Ethel and Jack.

They grew up in Brooklyn and my Grandpa hung out every day at the candy store on Linden Blvd. Grandma would go a hundred times a day to buy a penny chewing gum so she could see Grandpa.

She was 15; he was 21.

One of Grandpa’s friends liked her and asked her out on a date, but she really didn’t want to go out with him. So, she told him he could go with her best friend…but only if he brought HIS best friend – my Grandpa – to accompany her!

My Grandma was not a shy girl.
And that was the beginning of their relationship!
Grandpa absolutely adored my Grandma from the start, but worried that he was too old for her. So he fibbed and said he was 20, instead of 21.

They were married 4 years after that fateful first date.

It wasn’t until decades later, when my Grandparents were getting passports for the first time, that my Grandma learned the truth about his age; everyone had a great laugh!

My Grandpa passed away in 2001, and loved my Grandma with all of his heart, until the last beat it took. ~shared by @karenlisa

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“Photos help us remember who we were, which helps us know who we are now.” -Susan Meiselas

My Gigi, an immigrant from Poland, raised her son as a single mother during the Great Depression. She had such strength and dedication.
This photo shows a special moment between her and my Grandpa in the mid-1930s in Chicago. She was intently reading to him.

You can see how much she truly loved her only child. You can see the care she put into raising him, despite many obstacles.

My Mom always made sure to keep plenty of books around the house for me and my siblings. She also read to us daily.

This photo reveals who influenced my Mom and also symbolizes why reading together with children is so important. It made my Grandpa grow up to be a storyteller.
I grew up to be one too. ~shared by @snorkytheduck

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All you need is love.

Me and Ma.

This must have been a weekend morning in the 1960s.

My mother worked days and my Dad worked nights. We were a struggling family.

We didn’t have much – no car, no television.

But we had each other’s company. ~shared by @donnabella2

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“Photography is a way of feeling, of touching, of loving…It remembers little things, long after you have forgotten everything.” – Aaron Siskind

I love this picture of my Dad as a kid. It was taken in the mid-1960’s.

He passed away nearly a year ago and I’m always remembering him, but not just through one memory.
It’s through lots of little things.

Whenever I told him what I was up to, he would simply say, “Carry on as if you were normal.” I really miss hearing him say that.

He was the most thoughtful and silly person I ever knew and I was unbelievably lucky to have him in my life as long as I did.

Plus, he was one stylish kid. I want that hat. ~shared by @goldenpromises

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“And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.” -Late Fragment, Raymond Carver

We found this beautiful but well-worn photo of grandmother Irene tucked inside my grandfather’s wallet after he died.

He clearly cherished this photo of his wife of 61 years.

Raymond and Irene were childhood neighbors and grew up best friends. They had 5 children, 15 grandchildren, and 3 great grandchildren.

A true love story. ~ shared by @medezboz

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This is one of the coolest and most priceless pictures I’ve ever held in my hands.

This is the farm house in Missouri where I grew up. The house was built in 1895 and members of our family have lived in it ever since. The woman in the photo was one of my ancestors, named Emma, and the man next to her is also a relative, named “The Bull.” In fact, our family lived in it until a tragic fire a few weeks ago. The fire started in the back of the house and went straight up to the second floor, where most of our family antiques were.

We were very fortunate and were able to recover quite a lot, including hundreds of historic family photos we found under the rubble of our home.

This photo was dated pre-1930, since the second half of our house didn’t even exist until then.
I am so glad these photos made it through the fire. ~ shared by @kelseyjo_001

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I have exactly two memories of my grandfather.

The first, and the one I keep with me most, is of him taking me fishing when I was god-only-knows how young. I remember walking down a rickety wooden pier to a small waiting boat. Fishing poles clanked against the metal sides as my grandfather stepped in, sat down and reached for my hand.

The second memory creeps into my head every time I hear the word cancer. I remember walking into an enormous sanctuary holding my mother’s hand. Colored light poured in through stained glass windows. Large wooden pews stretched to either side of me, with rows of thick red cushions. I remember a nurse wheeling a pale, slender man in slowly. It was as if he was already gone. I was too young to really know what was going on, but I could see he was sick.

My grandfather, Kermit Roosevelt Crawford, was born November 23rd 1922. He left this earth on April 30,1985 after a fierce battle with cancer.

He lied about his age so he could join the Army Air Corps in 1939 at only 17. He served his country for 33 years, 3 months and 3 days.

I came across an old photo album, filled with pictures from his time in India and Asia during World War II. Looking through these images is indescribable. Seeing a part of his life that I would have never known about is amazing.

I would give anything to sit with him now and talk. I would give up every piece of my camera gear I own, and never make a single picture again, just to be able to make a portrait of him.
But through his pictures, I can imagine what it would have been like. The images are a living history, not only for one man, but for our nation as a whole.
That’s my grandfather, on the lower left, staring strongly back at me. ~shared by @ernrocks

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