The Picture Project

They say a picture is worth a thousand words.

I say, a picture is priceless.

Regardless of whether she trusted me or wanted to torture me, Nana, in her infinite wisdom, chose me to be the executor of her will. That’s right, she passed over three children and four other grandchildren to put me in charge of her estate.

My first task is to prepare her house, my childhood home, for sale. It is overwhelming to think that the doors that I have passed through, the halls that I have roamed, and the rooms where I slept (and had lots of sex) for nearly four decades, will soon be just a memory.

The attorney in charge of Nana’s estate says that for the house to be sold it must be empty. This means coordinating a dumpster, an estate sale and what little free time I have to move this process along. Being someone who doesn’t know how to waste time, I used some of it on Sunday to tackle the back bedroom of the house, which had most recently been Nana’s “office.”
 
It is important to note that Nana had few items of value and what valuables there were have been placed in storage -- just in case you’ve been casing the joint! It is also important to note that Nana was a bit of a hoarder. It took three hours to go through half of that room and, with three other bedrooms, a kitchen, a dining room, a living room, two-and-a-half baths and a full basement, all with closets and cabinets chock full of shit, I have only scratched the surface.

Aside from countless piles of address labels and notepads (compliments of the Humane Society, Easter Seals and thirty-thousand other junk mailers), every sympathy card sent in honor of her pre-deceased husband and son, as well as every thank you note, birthday greeting and holiday card received in the last decade, the room contained Nana’s most prized possessions... her photos.

I found approximately 1,000 pictures, placed in albums, documenting just a fraction of our lives. Knowing that this was the least utilized room, and recognizing Nana’s photo obsession, I expect to find many more as I make my way through the house.

Known not for her ability to take photos, but for her sheer persistence in getting the shot, Nana’s habit was often the butt of jokes, as well as the bane of my existence. Forget about holidays... The purchase of a new car, going on a first date or donning a new outfit were all reasons to snap a photo. She wasn’t a fan of the candid shot either, preferring instead to line us up execution-style, preferably in front of a vehicle.

For as long as I can remember, Nana carried a Kodak Instamatic 110 film camera in her pocketbook, until she succumbed to the technological pressures of the 1990s and abandoned her Instamatic for disposable cameras, which she used until she died. You would think that with all of this experience, she would be a regular Annie Leibovitz but, sadly, this was not the case. Nearly one third of her photographs bear witness to the fact that Nana was an expert at chopping off heads, capturing the darkness and perfecting the art of the thumb shot.

“Now, why won’t this work?”

“For God’s sake Nana,” I’d yell, breaking from the group and ripping the camera from her hands. “You have to ADVANCE it before you take the next shot.”

“Oh... yes,” she’d say. “Now, be my eyes... how many pictures are left on here?”

“Three Nana...”

“Okay, okay,” she’d say, waving me back to the herd.

Click

“Oh dammit,” she would cry. “The flash didn’t go off.”

This dance got old before I was twelve.

You could rarely enter Nana’s space without being posed for a photo, which was terribly annoying for everyone involved. Once developed, often in doubles, she would place one set in her latest photo album while the others were saved to be sent off to assorted friends and relatives.

“Don’t you have enough pictures Nana?”

“Oh shut up and stand over there,” she would bark, as she lined me up for the fifteenth group shot of the day.

It really made no sense... Why would she develop so many pictures just to put them in a photo album that would be stowed away in a closet? It would be one thing if she took them out and looked at them occasionally, but judging by the amount of dust on the albums?

And then it hit me...

These photos were not for her.

Nana’s passing marks the end of an era. I no longer have any living grandparents. With the upcoming sale of her home and all of her worldly possessions, what will be left but memories?

Whether from past substance abuse, stress, age or just too much going on inside my crazy head, my memories fade as quickly as they are created. But when I look at Nana’s photos? They come rushing back like a tidal wave.

What better way to cherish my memories and pass them on than through these photos?

But, they’re not just for me.

As I travel down the long road ahead and reach closure in this beautiful chapter of my life, I have made one more commitment... The Picture Project!

Many of Nana’s photos were stored in these sweet little keepsake boxes. There must be at least 20 of them. Each one will be assigned a name, representing close relatives, extended family members and close family friends and each will be filled with the memories that Nana wanted to create each time she snapped one of those stupid photos.

What the recipients do with their boxes is up to them, but I know what I will do with mine... I will take it out regularly, conjure up those sweet memories once more, and share them with my boys.

I suspect that’s what she wanted all along.