This week my wife Ines and I decided
to clear our basement where we stored boxes of old pictures, going back 40 or
50 years. We were younger then, and surrounded by parents, grandparents, uncles
and cousins who infused meaning into our lives. Alas, those days are gone
forever, and we are only left with colorful images.
The biblical poet urges us to
“Remember the days of old” (Deut. 32:7), and that is good. In the same spirit, an anonymous author stated
that pictures capture the moments in our lives for many tomorrows. “Many”-- in
our lives, yes; “forever”-No! Some of these treasured memories are meaningful
to us who lived the moment, and may have some significance for our children,
but what about our grandchildren and their own kids? I doubt it. They may take
a curious look at them, and that’s it. Unless one is extremely well-known
beyond one’s immediate circle, most pictures are meant for the close family
members of one or two generations, at most. These are “our” pictures, “our” recollections.
By looking at them, we briefly relive the moment. Others will have their own
images that will sustain them in their lives.
Among the treasures we found were
pictures of our respective parents’ early years as well as those taken during major
celebrations and notable life-cycle events, such as Ines’ “quinceaƱera” (when
she turned 15), other weddings and Bar/t Mitzvas. I retrieved one of my
parents’ engagement; one taken during my high school days, a great one of me
wearing a Turkish army uniform; pictures of our kids’ birth; early travels. I
even found one showing my long dark hair and no facial hair. When my grandchildren
look at them, they will not stop laughing: “You look so different” they will
say; “You were so young,” or even “Is that you?”
What is the message? I like what Orhan
Pamuk, a Turkish author, once said:
“Life is short, and we should respect every moment of it.” I personally do not
believe in the hereafter, and consider our life on earth precious and worthy of
living, hopefully in relative good health, but fully, cheerfully and
creatively, leaving a good name behind.
My wife and I did not keep all the
pictures; in fact, we discarded most of them, but saved a few that will still
bring a smile to our faces, and perhaps a chuckle among our grandchildren.
C’est la vie!
Rifat Sonsino
June 17, 2015