brides

These California wildfires (and the mass evacuations) have really got me thinking about what I would grab if I were forced to leave my home with very little notice. I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s the photos and the mementos that you just can’t get back.

Now I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a giant basement closet (plus a bin in the attic) full of old photo albums. I’m talking 30+ photo albums plus shoe boxes of old photos. There’s no way I’d be able to grab all of them in an emergency situation.

So, I think what I’m going to do is start selectively scanning them. I’m using the PhotoScan by Google app on my phone.

As a result of my first scanning session, I’ve discovered the root of my fascination with brides.

I always loved brides, bride dolls, veils, bouquets, etc. I remember sitting in my driveway as a kid watching in awe as my former babysitter emerged from her home across the street in her wedding gown. To this day, I will drop everything if I see a bride in the wild to gawk and take a photo.

Apparently it all started with my mother’s brother’s wedding. My Uncle Pete married Aunt Betsy around 1968 and I was the adorable toddler in attendance. My baby sister was too young to go (haha). They clearly made a big deal out of me.

My nana lifting me up to see beautiful Aunt Betsy in her spectacular veil

Planting a kiss on some little thumb-sucker at the wedding (I think a photographer set this up—I was not that assertive!)

Having some ice cream with my stylish Nana, who was probably about the same age that I am now

There are so many photos of me “playing bride” after that wedding. I could turn anything into a veil, including mosquito netting. And later, I had a bride doll with a tulle dress and veil that became a favorite toy.

It was an inauspicious start for a feminist-in-the making, but I chalk it up to the tulle. I loved spinning around in fluffy white tulle. And when it came time for my own wedding, you guessed it—tulle.