Purging All but the Memories
Purging has always given me satisfaction. When I fully let go of something, the results bring me clarity, renewed energy, and of course, cleansing. It does not matter what I do with the items, the experience is a cleansing opportunity for me. And, cleansing is good for the soul!
My recent purging project is looking through decades of photographs stored in albums, and deciding what to keep and what to discard. I began this several months ago, knowing that it would not be a quick project. Long before smart phones with cameras, and even digital cameras, I had no idea how a view experienced on a mountain, on a vivid autumn day, would look in its resulting photograph. When it was muted, dull or lifeless (more often than not), I held on to the only photograph of that particular place. I needed a memory, an impression of that day. Because of this, much of my photograph collection is mediocre at best.
Today, though, I wonder if it is necessary to hold on to an old photograph that is so blurred that squinting or putting it under a light does not bring out the image. Or, do I hold on to those with shadows that mask the faces in the photograph? Is that person in my life today? Or, who is that? Does the photograph bring me joy reminiscent of that day, which I barely remember? As I look at a photo, I try to remember its story – location, occasion, and why I chose to capture that image. If the photo does not elicit much emotion, the decision is simple. Reflecting on the photographs like this has helped me decide in which pile to place my photos – purge or preserve.
It is not always that simple to purge. It becomes difficult when the people in the photographs who were a large part of my past, are no longer here. The memory that comes to me from the photograph could be all I have of them. And for those who are still present in my life, do I hold on to all of them?
A few days ago, I found time to resume my photo purging project. It was the end of my work day, with still some time to do something that was productive, yet not overly taxing. I randomly selected the album of my bridal shower, decades ago. My bridal shower took place on a glorious day in June, at a restaurant on the water in Cohasset, Massachusetts. As I rummaged through the photographs, I saw how each picture held those near and dear to me, so many of them no longer here. I began to look at each photo thoughtfully and allowed myself time to reflect on who was in it, where they were today, and my relationship with them. Some were family members no longer here: my mother, mother-in-law, great aunts and aunts. Others were still with me, thankfully, and included my sister, sisters in-law, cousins, and friends. Here was the first purging challenge for me.
I selected a photo, a favorite of mine, which immediately elicited a warm feeling in me. In it were six young women, myself included. The young women were my friends from the Rose Way neighborhood of Holbrook, Massachusetts. On this pleasant spring day in the 1980s, our blend of muted and vibrantly colored clothing, amidst the backdrop of the water created a picturesque scene. We stood beside each other, arms interlocked. Each of us was dressed in her own personal style, also influenced by the fashion of the time. I lingered for awhile on this photo, reflecting how our most artistic friend wore flowy pants (the only one of us wearing pants) and dangling jewelry, illustrating her individual and imaginative style. She wore flats with socks that matched the color of her turquoise blouse. On the contrary, my dress was a two-piece vibrant yellow and white vertically striped pattern, the colors of the Giorgio perfume packaging during that time. Perhaps, I was going for the elegant look of the Beverly Hills perfume. The vertical stripes were quite flattering – was my waist really that small? Two other friends wore loosely-fit dresses of soft-colored patterns with fabric belts, consistent with fashion trend. Another friend, also wore a two-piece dress, but a solid white. All of our dresses were mid-calf length, revealing very little of our youthful legs.
As I lingered over this image, feeling emotional about that day and the women who posed for it, my phone rang. Coincidentally, it was one of the women from the photograph. Recently, I had called her to share an upcoming event that might be of interest to the group. Her call was not about the event, but about our mutual friend, the remaining girl in the photograph. She was not well, she told me, in fact, she was very sick. The shock of this was great, as was the timing of the call. As we spoke, I clutched the photograph of the Rose Way girls. Here was a photograph to preserve, not purge. The two of us spoke briefly and tearfully, and she ensured me that she would be in touch with updates.
After we finished our brief conversation, I studied the remaining young woman in the photograph, Charlene. She too, had an artistic flair that was revealed in her fashion on that day. Charlene’s ensemble, unlike the others, stopped above her knees and revealed her long legs. She was the tallest of the group, and wore clothes beautifully, clothes that did not have the same effect on the rest of us. On this occasion, she wore a shorter, white skirt, and a blouse, also turquoise, that fell below her waist. She also wore a belt. Her hair, the color of copper, created a nice contrast with the bright blouse. In this photograph, like the rest of us, she was smiling, with her arm around me, as I was standing beside her.
As I sat there, I thought of the phone call. This news seemed impossible, unreal. My mind ran through memories of that day, the photograph still in hand. I began to think of the many days I spent with my Rose Way friends. Glancing down at this photo album, I realized how grateful I was to have an open window to a lifetime of memories.
It was just days later that I drew my attention back to the photograph. I regarded, with warmth, the five young women with bright smiles on that lovely day in June of 1989. Then I moved my eyes to the one person who has left us, too soon, also smiling. Charlene was colorful and open and warm, like her hair, I thought, as I studied her, and reflected on the last time I saw her.
Two years ago, four of us reconnected after losing touch, and spent a weekend together. Exploring my town, we had breakfast at a historical inn. Although we were not overnight guests, the innkeeper gave us a tour of the rooms. Typical for us when we are together, we let her know of our long-term friendship – we are proud of our connection. She took pleasure in our reminiscing and listened as we shared our experiences with her, assisting us as we posed for photographs, this stranger whom we had befriended, and who welcomed us into her home. We walked through the historical district of my town, known for its first period houses, and posed in front of one or two. This was a weekend to remember, to preserve, to revisit later, and these photographs were the start of a story, or a new chapter for us.
Later, at a yard sale, Charlene purchased a piece of furniture for a refinishing project, her artistic desires surfacing and shining. She managed to fit the furniture in our friend’s car, and at the same time, made a new friend in my neighbor, who was selling it. She was energized by the new project that she would tackle, and putting her talent to use, as well as the lively conversation with my neighbor, and the innkeeper, earlier. Throughout the weekend, as we revisited memories and began to create new ones, Charlene was the young woman I remember- extraverted, funny, flirtatious, and charming. Her light was so bright.
I smile, through tears, as I look at this photograph of the Rose Way girls at my bridal shower. I place it in the preserve pile, where it belongs. When I reach for it later, it will be with a mixture of sadness for the loss, and happiness for the richness of friendships. But, more importantly, the ability to hold on to my memories through it, and other photographs, will be everlasting. There is so much to preserve.