I have been looking through old family albums again. There is a laundry basket full of albums that somehow ended up at my aunt’s. I wanted to share a few of them, not because they are particularly good, or because they have any meaning to anyone else, but because they are a window into the past.

The first is my kindergarten “graduation”.

I’m in a soldier costume second from the left of what appears to be a bride in the center of the picture. I have no recollection of a giant clown, but there he is.

I can vaguely remember this event. We put on a play at the end of the year. As I remember it, it seemed to have some elements of the Nutcracker, but probably other things as well. I seem to remember that it was at the American Legion building. I also seem to remember that the kindergarten itself was in the home of a woman who lived near downtown in a section called Between the Rivers.

The next is my first grade class photo.

I am at the left end of the back row, beside the boy with the striped shirt.

The photo was taken on the front steps of Fourth Ward School. My father lived two houses up the street and attended this same school. His mother worked in the lunchroom when I was there. The school is gone, replaced by doctors’ offices. My grandmother’s house is also gone, replaced at one time by offices, but now a vacant lot.

I can remember the face of almost every kid in the first grade photo, although I can remember only about eight names. I find the variation in how each kid looks kind of amazing. It’s funny how nature made us so distinctive.

I don’t remember anyone at all in the kindergarten photo.

The next photograph is my father’s mother and father. My father’s father died when my father was about five years old, I think, so this photograph had to be taken prior to around 1922.

I was going to say that this photograph almost made me cry, but the truth is that it did make me cry. I’m not sure why. Maybe because the photo caught them in such a purely spontaneous pose. Their affection is obvious. The stiff poses in most of my family photos hide almost any hint of personality, but I can see real people in this photo. My grandmother had a life long before I was born, and a husband she loved. I regret for my father’s sake that he didn’t get the chance to really know his father, and I regret for my sake that I didn’t get to even meet my grandfather.