I’ve been digitizing old photos over the past few weeks. I have a ton of them. There’s no way I could save all of them in the event of a fire. I wouldn’t even want to. There are too many.
Walt Whitman’s lines “I am large, I contain multitudes” keep popping into my head. I’ve gone through so many phases in my nearly 60 years. I contain multitudes. We all do.
One theme I’m finding is that we (like everyone) mostly took photos on vacations and holidays. And there’s one vacation destination in Massachusetts that everyone knows: Cape Cod. It’s known simply as “the Cape.” (There’s another popular cape in Massachusetts, but that one gets referred to by its full name: Cape Ann.)
Cape Cod is where the Kennedys summered and it’s just one of those places that everyone in Massachusetts has memories of. If you didn’t have a friend with a house “down the Cape,” then you probably rented one or stayed in a Cape hotel at least a few times in your life.
My earliest memories of the Cape include barfing after eating scallops at Thompson’s Clam Bar, having my grandmother tell me that they thought I’d drowned when I went missing at the beach one day, and waiting for the sun to come out.
I’ve been lucky to visits “The Islands” many times too. (If you’re from Massachusetts, you know that The Islands are Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket.) But the Cape is where my earliest vacation memories happened.
I’m realizing that the places where our memories were made—where our lives have played out—are quite meaningful. They’re the settings for our stories.
The Cape, August 1970At the beach on Cape Cod, 1970, with my Italian grandmother in a bathing suit (a rare occurrence). I don’t remember how I hurt my knee, but I do remember wearing that huge bandage.
Today’s realization from The Great Photo Digitization Project of 2025 (inspired by the tragic California wildfires) is that I was an extremely well-dressed child. (My own kids were nowhere near as well-dressed as my sister and I were.)
And this was before the era of “fast fashion,” so my mother made many of our dresses and outfits.
We always had matching accessories too. Note the headband in this shot:
With my baby cousin Steven and Aunt Betsy, 1971
In my old photo albums, one accessory is featured more than all the others and that is color-coordinated kneesocks. I remember having a drawer full of them. Thinking back, they were pretty cool because they came in so many different colors and were way more comfortable than tights.
Knee socks and a matching purse for the first day of first gradeNovember 1972Note the “milk box” near the front door (I am old)Heading off to Town Day 1973
Facilitated by my mother and a Marshall’s opening up in my town in the late 70s (“Brand Names for Less”), I ended up being a major clothes horse right through high school. I embraced the Reagan era “preppy look” and had dozens of sweaters in every color of the rainbow. My closet looked like a Benetton store.
My high school preppy look
It wasn’t until I tried to fit all my clothes into a tiny freshman dorm closet that I realized how ridiculously many I had.
I’m continuing to selectively digitize my old photos and I bring you a comparison of the two methods: iPhone photo vs PhotoScan by Google.
iPhone photo of an old print PhotoScan by Google of the same pictureiPhone photo PhotoScan by Google
Let me know if you have thoughts about which method is better quality, because it’s too much work to do both.
Because most of these photos are stuck in the old adhesive style photo albums, I’m having to pry them out if I want to see what (if anything) is written on the back. Then I’m stuck with a loose photo that I’ve been taping back into place with painter’s tape.
The photos above were taken on my “First Communion” day in April 1973. Despite my previously described love of veils, I remember I did not like that one. It was attached to a very uncomfortable headband that squeezed my head painfully. Perhaps this was a sign of the rocky road ahead for me and the Catholic Church.
Other than the painful headband, I remember getting some religious-themed presents (a Bible locket, an angel) and being made to feel quite special with a family party after the main event at the church.
I think we look like a real mid-century Italian-American family in these photos, but my dad is no Tony Soprano. He loved his mother (my long-widowed “Grammy”) dearly and she worshipped him. He was far and away her favorite child. As the only boy in an Italian family, he was extra special and he took great care of her until her death in 1992, just a month short of her 90th birthday.
Born in the summer of 1965, I am part of the oldest GenX cohort (1965-80) and I’m discovering through my photo digitizing project, that I’m quite well documented.
My parents took a lot of pictures. Many of them were bad (“delete” was not an option back then) but there’s at least a few photos from every single year of my life through college graduation. (Whereas, we probably have five pictures in all of my father as a kid.)
It looks like the summer of 1974 was the peak of my gymnastics prowess. I remember that I worked very hard and mastered a “front walkover” as a kid and here’s the proof:
This appears to be a class performance
I don’t think I ever progressed to handsprings (too hard). And I certainly never did a walkover on a balance beam (too scary).
Two years prior, in 1972, a tiny Soviet gymnast named Olga Korbut did a backflip off the uneven bars in the Munich Summer Olympics, won three gold medals, and inspired a lot of little American girls to try some new tricks. I was one of them.
And so, for my 60th birthday this summer, I pledge to work hard to reenact this photo and perform a front walkover in front of an audience.
KIDDING!! Can you even imagine? I’ll stick to Downward Dogs.
My 9th birthday party on my parents’ porch in the summer of ‘74. My sister and I and my neighborhood friends Candy, Kim, Carolyn and Bethanne had a good time.
Thanks to blogger Dwight Roth (a wonderful poet), I’ve learned that sometimes an iPhone photo of an old print is just as good or better than a “scan.”
Today’s discovery is Rainbow—the original guinea pig.
Rainbow was the first in a series of guinea pigs that my sister and I had as pets in the 70s. My main memories of the little fellows involve the absolute anguish we felt when they inevitably got sick and died. I can’t believe my mother spent good money taking them to see veterinarians when they stopped eating. (Maybe she lied about that and just drove around the block a few times.) I remember praying to God to save my guinea pigs. He never did.
In any case, I’ve learned that Rainbow was my class pet in kindergarten and I took him home for the summer.
I was happy to discover some good guinea pig memories in one of the old photo albums.
Good times in Kindergarten with two boys whose first and last names I still remember. (Yet, I can’t recall the name of a new person I met in church last week.)
I love how Rainbow got his own square in the class photo.
I was a wary little kindergartener. Thank goodness Rainbow didn’t die on my watch.
We hosted a neighborhood party for our guinea pig “Cookie” and another guinea pig in the summer of 1973. It looks like they had a nice little feast.
A happy memory of “Candy” roaming free in our backyard in the summer of 1974. I remember the guinea pigs loved nibbling clover and were very cute doing so. 🐹
I have just one sibling, a younger sister, and my mother loved to put us in matching outfits, many of which she sewed herself.
I’m giving my mother an A++ for the extraordinary effort it took to not only make some of our clothing, but to have the two outfits clean on the same day and get us both to agree to wear them. You must admit, we looked very cute and were a big hit when out in public.
Unless you had hippie parents, this was a common thing for girls in the late 60s and early 70s. Sisters matched. I don’t remember boys being put in matching outfits, but maybe some were.
To be honest, my sister and I are not close and have not been for many years. We are extremely different people. I don’t know if being seen as a “set” of girls from a young age had a negative impact or not. I know there was a certain expectation that I would set an example for her. And as you may have heard, oldest daughters tend towards perfectionism, which probably isn’t fun for the ones who come after.
But darn it, we were cute.
Christmas 1969
June 1971 (these may have been dance recital costumes)
November 1972 (sometimes our outfits were similar, but not identical)
Here we are with our close family friends who happened to have boys. They were never in matching outfits.
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.
Helping Uncle Pete with his bow tie
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.
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