How do you feel about photos of yourself?  Amongst my friends (shhhhh, don’t tell anyone), I do not enjoy looking at pictures of myself and I never have.  However, that does not extend backwards to childhood photos.  I am actually kind of obsessed with those.

Old photos just take me right back. They did morph from black and white to color just around when I was nine or so.  I have such distinct memories of my dad’s polaroid camera, anxiously waiting while the picture cooked and watching him do the slow reveal.  And of course, the clothing, oh, the clothing!!  How about the hair??

I found a picture recently of my family all dressed up clearly going somewhere.  My sister and I (ages perhaps 12 and 9(?)) were wearing these long  cotton dresses with lots of flowers and cotton patches.  Let’s all together say . . . hideous.  But I am sure you can all picture them too.  My dad’s glasses were about as big as his face and my mom’s hair lifted 3 feet straight off of her head.  And let’s not forget the dangling cigarette of the era.

But here’s the thing – all four of us were smiling as broad as could be, we were standing close with my parents arms warmly around their children.   I suppose this is why I am obsessed with those photos of such happy memories.

I hope my children feel the same looking at their own some day.

Do you have old photos?