I loved this trip down memory lane, JoAnne! I disagree that these are unimportant to anyone. These are artifacts of what life was like in a time that we will never see again. They show all these quotidian aspects that are absolutely fascinating because they don’t exist (and also for the nostalgia value).
Of course, I personally have my own collection of these things, though my life in upstate New York was not nearly as interesting as yours. 😉 So I am a kindred spirit in hanging onto scrapbooks.
And they’ve had an interesting role in my life. The first book I wrote was from “a memory box in the attic” of World War II Army nurse who served in Fiji and India with a unit sponsored by John Hopkins Hospital. In the box were her diaries which started on December 8, 1941, the day after Pearl Harbor, tons of snapshots she’d taken and lots of other momentoes from her time there. She was long since deceased, and the Army had disbanded the unit shortly after the conclusion of the war. But through the archaeology of this box, I was able to construct a book the chronicled what daily life was like over there for those serving offering a rare glimpse, just something that few people know about and the only in-print book about an army medical unit no longer exists.
While our boxes don’t have the dramatic history surrounding them, I still think that the record of a time that no longer exists is both important and precious.
Tiffany, what an incredible comment. ❤️ And what an amazing story behind your first book! I love the idea of “the archaeology of a box.” Those everyday pieces of history—letters, photos, ticket stubs, programs—tell us so much about how people actually lived.
I’m so glad my little trip down memory lane offered a glimpse into a time of rotary phones, snail mail, fan letters, and radio contests. You’ve inspired me to dig deeper. I only scratched the surface of my scrapbooks, and there are so many family stories still tucked away in those boxes. Maybe as I unpack and finally start scanning everything in Pennsylvania, I’ll uncover even more stories worth sharing.
Thank you, not only for this beautiful comment, but for your incredible support from the very beginning. It truly means the world to me. ❤️
"Packing isn't really about deciding what to keep. It's about deciding which version of yourself you're ready to carry into the next chapter." That one stopped me.
My husband and I have declared 2027 our purge year — 27 years in this house, room by room. I keep telling myself I'll be ruthless. Then I remember I haven't opened most of those boxes yet.
Wow…27 years in one house! My biggest piece of advice is to tackle it in small chunks. About 12 years ago, after my mom passed away, my dad moved in with us and we had to empty my parents’ home of more than 60 years. It took us the entire summer, driving three hours each way from Maryland to New Jersey every weekend. It was physically and emotionally exhausting, and I wouldn’t wish that experience on anyone. If there’s one thing I learned, it’s this: don’t wait. Your future self will thank you. ❤️
Don't wait — noted, and taken to heart. The boxes I haven't opened are exactly the ones I'm most afraid of, which probably tells me something. Thank you for this, JoAnne.
I get it Joanne. My 10 photo books were very heavy to take on the plane to Panama not to mention the cost, but there was no way I was parting with them.
I know…same! 😂 These albums have become world travelers. I’m determined to finally start scanning my huge (and very heavy!) collection once I get to Pennsylvania. Please hold me to it! ❤️
Megan, I don’t remember being mature or sophisticated back then (or now! 😂), but I’m definitely accepting the compliment! Thanks so much for reading—and for remembering teenage me so kindly. ❤️
I loved this trip down memory lane, JoAnne! I disagree that these are unimportant to anyone. These are artifacts of what life was like in a time that we will never see again. They show all these quotidian aspects that are absolutely fascinating because they don’t exist (and also for the nostalgia value).
Of course, I personally have my own collection of these things, though my life in upstate New York was not nearly as interesting as yours. 😉 So I am a kindred spirit in hanging onto scrapbooks.
And they’ve had an interesting role in my life. The first book I wrote was from “a memory box in the attic” of World War II Army nurse who served in Fiji and India with a unit sponsored by John Hopkins Hospital. In the box were her diaries which started on December 8, 1941, the day after Pearl Harbor, tons of snapshots she’d taken and lots of other momentoes from her time there. She was long since deceased, and the Army had disbanded the unit shortly after the conclusion of the war. But through the archaeology of this box, I was able to construct a book the chronicled what daily life was like over there for those serving offering a rare glimpse, just something that few people know about and the only in-print book about an army medical unit no longer exists.
While our boxes don’t have the dramatic history surrounding them, I still think that the record of a time that no longer exists is both important and precious.
Signed, a fellow momento hoarder with purpose 😂😂
Tiffany, what an incredible comment. ❤️ And what an amazing story behind your first book! I love the idea of “the archaeology of a box.” Those everyday pieces of history—letters, photos, ticket stubs, programs—tell us so much about how people actually lived.
I’m so glad my little trip down memory lane offered a glimpse into a time of rotary phones, snail mail, fan letters, and radio contests. You’ve inspired me to dig deeper. I only scratched the surface of my scrapbooks, and there are so many family stories still tucked away in those boxes. Maybe as I unpack and finally start scanning everything in Pennsylvania, I’ll uncover even more stories worth sharing.
Thank you, not only for this beautiful comment, but for your incredible support from the very beginning. It truly means the world to me. ❤️
"Packing isn't really about deciding what to keep. It's about deciding which version of yourself you're ready to carry into the next chapter." That one stopped me.
My husband and I have declared 2027 our purge year — 27 years in this house, room by room. I keep telling myself I'll be ruthless. Then I remember I haven't opened most of those boxes yet.
Wow…27 years in one house! My biggest piece of advice is to tackle it in small chunks. About 12 years ago, after my mom passed away, my dad moved in with us and we had to empty my parents’ home of more than 60 years. It took us the entire summer, driving three hours each way from Maryland to New Jersey every weekend. It was physically and emotionally exhausting, and I wouldn’t wish that experience on anyone. If there’s one thing I learned, it’s this: don’t wait. Your future self will thank you. ❤️
Don't wait — noted, and taken to heart. The boxes I haven't opened are exactly the ones I'm most afraid of, which probably tells me something. Thank you for this, JoAnne.
I get it Joanne. My 10 photo books were very heavy to take on the plane to Panama not to mention the cost, but there was no way I was parting with them.
I know…same! 😂 These albums have become world travelers. I’m determined to finally start scanning my huge (and very heavy!) collection once I get to Pennsylvania. Please hold me to it! ❤️
Mature and sophisticated. Never weird. That’s how I remember teenage you! Great story!!!
Megan, I don’t remember being mature or sophisticated back then (or now! 😂), but I’m definitely accepting the compliment! Thanks so much for reading—and for remembering teenage me so kindly. ❤️