The photos were in boxes in a cabinet under Grandma’s entertainment center. Most were sepia toned or black and white and featured stern or blank pale faces. But there were others, in a leather bound book, with black paper background, that were of smiling faces in Flapper style hair and clothes and suspenders and other early 1900 clothes
Who were these girls in striped leggings, straight bangs, pants and boys shirts, sitting on top of a train caboose, laughing and having fun? Curved letters on the back of the images dated them sometime in the early 20s and the one with the determined, fierce expression, broken only by the hint of a smile on one side of the mouth was Ula Gladwynn Grant, my grandmother, daughter of J Eben and Grace Grant.
My grandmother, Ula, is the girl in the middle. Two weeks ago I also noticed the woman in the window of the house behind the girls. I wonder now if that is my great grandmother Grace, who I named my daughter after.
I was enthralled with the images of Grandma as a teenager, laughing, smiling, looking determined. I wondered what she was thinking in the very moment the button was pressed to capture those images. And who took the images? Cameras weren’t as common back then as they are now. Phones with cameras that you carry in your pocket? It is something that in the 1920s Grandma could have never imagined. My dad thinks my grandmother’s aunt, Ivy, may have taken the photos, documented these real moments for future generations. They say Ivy died young. I’ve looked at the photographs of her and something about her wry grin and the sparkle in her eyes makes me think she and I would have hit it off very well.
I wish I’d asked Grandma more about the photots when she was alive. I wish I had asked her who the other girls were, who took her photos and why she was grinning. I wish I had asked her more about Ivy, the woman whose grave is facing a different direction than everyone else at the tiny cemetery behind the church, a sign to me that she was someone who liked to be unique.
Those images of my grandmother revealed someone vastly different than who I grew up with, or at least how I saw her. Somehow I seemed to think Grandma had always been old. She had never been a teenager, laughing with her friends. But these photos showed something completely different. Someone completely different, even though it was my grandmother’s laughter I’d captured with my camera one day when she was 88 that made me realize how much I love to photograph the real moments of life.
My grandmother is pictured with her father and sister, Onieta. I’m not sure who the woman with the baby is.
Sometimes I wonder if these photos were why I would later find myself desperate to capture the moments of my own families life. Her death was one of the timesI realized how important photographs are and that they can capture the real soul of a person, freeze a memory of that soul long after their body has left the earth. I even named my first photography business Gladwynn Photography. I still can’t recall why I changed from that name, but I guess it faded away, along with my full time business, when I decided to document my family’s real life more.
Those early, faded images of my ancestors showed me there is life to be captured and documented. I loved that many of the photos featured real expressions, not strained and forced smiles or stiff poses but life, real life.
The woman on the left is Aunt Ivy Grant. The woman on the right is named, but I don’t remember it.
Because of these photographs, I wanted to photograph my in between moments, my right now moments, my right here moments. And those are the photographs I still want to document for my future generations.