A picture says a thousand words

In 2009, my Aunt became ill with lung cancer, and began the process of moving from her large family home to a granny flat at my cousin's property.

As part of her move, she began to distribute some of her belongings amongst the family.

I have always been the one who saw value in kitschy things, and in the past my receipt of family heirlooms has been things like a souvenir shell lamp from Naple, Italy or a teapot shaped like a house.

As a part of this transfer of treasures, my mother received boxes and boxes of family photographs, most with records of who and what faithfully written on their backs.

Once Mum passed away, I have found many treasures, but this one has a special place in my heart.

This photo is of my mother, aged 4 weeks old, so would have been taken in 1933.  Her eyes turn towards the light, and one has to wonder what intriguing play of light has caught her eye.

Motherhood is a powerful thing that binds the generations.  This photo might not mean very much to you if you aren't a mother.  It might just be a nice photo of a new baby.  But to me it says everything about being a new mother.  It is almost as if this photo can tell me what my grandmother was thinking.  Marvelling at this new life...gazing on her in wonder at this beautiful creation.  What will her personality be like?  What will she grow up to be?  Can I look after her and love her enough?
Even over 70 years later, this photo tugs at my heart, because it could have been taken yesterday - it could have been a photo of my first baby taken nearly ten years ago.  Mothers have the same sense of awe and wonder now as they did then.

In October 2010, my friend Paula took this photo of a wee baby named Orion and his moments after birth.  I don't know Orion or his Mum, but I don't need to in order to feel what this photo means.  And because Paula is a Mum too, I can bet there was a buzz of emotion swirling around when she took this photo.  I can feel it.

Nearly eighty years on, it makes no difference.  A photo captured at the right moment says everything.  It can be impossible to describe.  It isn't just what you see.  Its what you feel.

Check out Paula's website and blog
http://www.secondnaturephotography.co.nz/
http://secondnaturephotography.co.nz/blog/?p=21

Would my mother have been a blogger?

Wednesday 5 June 1996.
There was a thick fog this morning and when the sun finally won through the grass was sparkling with dew. When I took Peanut for his walk we went across the reserve up by the top shops. He was trotting along with his head down and when I looked closely, I saw he was lapping up the dew as he went.

These are the sorts of treasures that we found when clearing out Mum’s house after she passed away. Diaries dating back to 1949. Much of it was accounts of the day – and even at the time probably seemed more than a little mundane. But mundane things take on a sense of history with the passage of time – they reflect social norms and trends of the time.

Thursday 20 June 1950
Work. Typing. I had to type a telegram for Mr Newton at work. Went with Miss. Sweet to do the banking.

Diaries with references to the ‘new’ fountain at Mission Bay, with work colleagues referred to by their titles, movies that were seen, books that were read, news that made headlines (‘Princess Elizabeth had a baby girl’) all point to things that were a priority to a 17 year old girl in 1950.

At the end of the day, we don’t change an awful lot. How we communicate does.
Yesterday my Facebook status said ‘Going to the park without sunhats is a bad idea.’
Mum’s diary on the exact same day sixty one years ago said: ‘Wet day. Did some of my map. Went for a swim after dinner in the rain. It was good. Washed my hair. Listened to the games. Drew.’

Time may have passed, but whether its 2011, 1996 or 1950, and whether they are immortalised on thin lined paper, in an Anne Geddes diary, on a blog or Facebook page wall, they are still words and they still tell a story