At a funeral for a 92-year-old man this week, I was struck by the family photos scrolling by in the pre-service slide show. I’ve seen hundreds of these slide shows before, but this one jumped out at me.
The deceased and his wife, present at the service in a wheelchair, are from the same generation as my parents. Their children are close enough in age to me for everything to make sense culturally.
Mark Wingfield
Perhaps unintentionally, the photos lined up with the stories being told about this beloved husband, father, grandfather. There was a photo of the 18-foot travel trailer he bought to tour the family around the country on summer vacations. There was a holiday meal with his plate piled high with food. There he was entertaining the grandchildren. There he was serving in the U.S. Army Air Forces.
I flashed back to my childhood when we would gather in the living room or den and my dad would bring out the slide projector to show us the evidence of the latest family trip or holiday gathering. I can still hear the click of the metal slide holder going in and out of the white-hot projector.
We all laughed and enjoyed the memories, and then the slide show was over. But for some reason, many of those images remain seared in my memory. Maybe it’s because we watched them over and over, or maybe it’s because these backlit images reinforced my own lived memories.
I’ve tried several times in the past to get all my dad’s old slides converted into digital images, and the results just haven’t been what I wanted. But I’m inspired now to try again. And to dig out the treasure trove of family photo albums and get scanning again. But even then, what does one do with a flood of digital images?
It’s ironic that although every one of us carries a high-quality camera in our pocket or purse today, we seem to take fewer photos of everyday events. We’re more likely to document the presentation of the food on the table than the people gathered there.
“Here’s my plea to the living: Take more photos and make more memories while you can.”
Thirty years from now, no one is going to care how beautiful that plate was. But they will be fascinated by the memory of who sat around the table together.
This 92-year-old man was an exception to many of the funerals I officiate. Too often, the deceased never really lived — at least not in any documentable way. This man and his family lived a full life of joy together and made great memories along the way. But more importantly, they photographed them.
Here’s my plea to the living: Take more photos and make more memories while you can. And then don’t lose those memories or images. There will come a time when that’s all you have.
Pull that smartphone out of your pocket or purse and capture the faces around the table at family dinners. Take photos of your kids’ sports teams. Save images from church events and camps and trips. Take photos with your neighbors, your friends, your church friends, your coworkers. Think about it: Few of us have any photographs of the people we spend vast amounts of time with at work.
We are culturally programmed to snap photos at key milestones like graduations and weddings, but we need to become attuned to capturing the every day among us. Because believe it not, there will come a time when every day will be yesterday.
Mark Wingfield serves as executive director and publisher of Baptist News Global. He is the author of five books, including Honestly: Telling the Truth about the Bible and Ourselves.