Often when people are faced with the threat of losing everything they own they get really clear about their priorities. And many of them say that the only things they’d really miss would be the sentimental things like their photos.
graduating from Whitman was so exciting
I consider myself a sentimental person and I love my photos because they remind me of fun times. So I’ve always understood this sentiment. The stuff is Just Stuff, but the photos, they’re something special. However, I had an experience Friday that made me realize that as I’ve become less attached to things, I’ve also become less attached to photos.
Lately I’ve been Getting Smart About Phones and Planning Around Obsolescence. I had an appointment yesterday to consolidate my old iPhoto library (on an external hard drive) and my new iPhoto library (on my laptop) so that I could free up some space on my computer. So Friday morning I got out my external hard drive and took a look through the old photos. A few of them made me grin: my sisters and I wearing mud masks and making funny faces, my graduation from college, exuberant present unwrapping during Christmases past, etc.
silliness with my sisters
But as I scanned the photos I realized that most of them don’t mean anything to me anymore. I had photos of people whose names I no longer remember. I had photos from a school project that I’ve long since forgotten about. I had photos that were blurry, too dark, or overexposed. I had photos of a backpacking trip that triggered unpleasant memories. (My friends broke up on day two and got back together on day four, which meant the four of us had two very uncomfortable days on the trail!)
As I biked off to the Apple Genius Bar I thought, “Well, it’s going to be a lot of work to sort through all of these photos, but at least now I know I can get rid of most of these.”
When I arrived I explained that I was trying to consolidate all my photos so I could purge the old ones and free up space for my work and new photos. We plugged in my external hard drive and it wouldn’t mount. Period. It was completely dead. Which meant that I’d just lost several years worth of photos. The moment of panic arrived. And then it quickly left.
such a gorgeous hike, but such bad memories attached to it!
I realized that I’d just looked through my photos that morning (which was more attention than I’d paid them in years) and I’d already figured out that I didn’t want most of them anyhow. I was hit by a wave of relief and I briefly explained my journey towards the Little Life. The tech seemed relieved, too. I’m sure he’s used to people breaking down when several years worth of photos evaporate.
We transferred the photo library from my laptop to a new external hard drive. (And it turns out that I actually do have all the photos I thought I’d lost because I’d already transferred them from my external hard drive to my laptop.) Now that I can, I probably will take the time to sort my photos and keep the ones I do still want. But hopefully I can do it relatively quickly because I’ll keep in mind that if even I don’t want to look through all of them no one else would either!
I only know one of these people and I have no idea what the event was!
Nevertheless, I’ve been marveling at how differently I handled the experience of losing my photos than I would have a few years ago. I suppose part of it is that many of my photos are out there in other places. I’ve shared them with friends or uploaded them to Facebook. But even so, it just wasn’t that big a deal anymore. I’ve come to terms with the fact that keeping track of my photos is not entirely within my control nor is it entirely my responsibility. Technology will continue to fail. Natural disasters will continue to happen. Boxes will continue to get lost in moves.
I know that for some people losing photos truly would be devastating and I can relate to that. But I’m glad that it wasn’t devastating for me. I’m glad that in my minimalist journey I’ve become less vulnerable to these losses. I don’t want to live in the past via my photos. I want my photos to be a tool for memory keeping but not a burden. I’m grateful that I know how to take new photos and make new memories.
Now, off to the Street Fair. With my camera, of course!