Somethimes I Think Technology Fails Us

Last weekend we were over at my aunt's house to celebrate my grandfather's 93rd birthday.

A 93rd birthday is an achievement worthy of a blog post as it is, but it isn't what I am writing about today. Honestly, my grandparents on my father's side (who are both currently 93 years old) seem like they are going to go on forever. I completely expect to celebrate their 103rd birthdays.

No, what got me to thinking at Grandpa's 93rd birthday party was when my Aunt pulled out a box of old photographs that she had. When my grandparents have sold their condo and moved into an assisted living community tens years back, they divided up a number of their heirloom items across their five kids. Each kid got a box of old photographs.

A number of us were having a great time flipping through the photos and trying to guess who was who. A lot of the pictures were of my dad's side of the family from the 1940s through the early 1970s. But there were some photos in the mix that dated back to the 1930s, 20's, and some even earlier. There were shots of my grandpa and grandma as kids and the like.

As the photos got passed around he dinning room table and everyone excitedly tried to correctly identify not only the "who" but the "when" and "where" of the photos, it occurred to me that that we probably won't be able to have this sort of experience years from now.

All of Heather and my photos, or at least any photos taken in the last ten years and certainly all of them in the future, are digital. The images either sit on our computer or on some server somewhere. We rarely print out anything anymore.

When Heather and I are old and ready to pass on some of our items to Ian, Emma, and Zoe, what are we going to give them when it comes to the photographs that document our family's history? A thumb-drive? A password for a website? That seems so cold and impersonal. Especially when compared with the experience of sitting around a table holding photos, showing them to the person next to you, and talking about them.

Sure, having all these images in digital format is wonderful for preserving them for generations, but there is something more personal and immediate when you actually hold a photograph that was created 40 years ago. The rough edges of the photo paper. The slightly faded colors. It's like touching history.

No matter how clear and everlasting a digital image might be, I have a hard time believing that a digital photograph will ever elicit the same sort of emotional response that a box of old photos produces. That's where technology fails us.