someone else's story

On Sunday I took a trip to the Long Beach Antique/Flea Market. Going there is like traveling through time for a treasure hunt... I never know what I'm going to stumble across. Here are my finds for the day:

suitcase: $25

small quilt: $10

old keys: $2 each

and my absolute favorite item - the old skool (circa 1957-1962) polaroid land camera (including case, accessories and owner's manual): $25!!!!!! This is primarily just for show, of course, but isn't it beautiful? There's such a sense of history about it.

And speaking of history...

I found a few other items that just had to come home with me: a few old photographs from the 1940's. There was a box full of these old photographs being sold for $1.00 each. And I found myself being drawn in... into the images, the history... the stories. Because these were real people. These pictures were of their real lives. I suddenly found myself digging deeper and deeper through the box, completely curious as to the story behind each one. Who are these people? Why was the picture taken in the first place, and by whom? What happened next?

Some of the pictures held a few short answers, as they had been labeled on the back of the image with a couple of names, a place or even just a date. But others were more descriptive; a few short sentences scrawled onto them in beautiful handwriting... and I felt a strong connection to these photos in particular. Someone had deemed them important enough to not just take in the first place, but to label and describe so that these moments might be remembered. And yet, somehow, these photos had made their way into this anonymous box. And by this, I was saddened.

I felt the physical loss of their voice; as if I was mourning these strangers whose stories had been forgotten or given away. And suddenly I felt the insane need to rescue them. I couldn't save them all, but a few select images have found a new home with me. And while I know naught of these people except for the fragment that each photo provides, I will do my best to honor their moments, and keep their stories alive. And with that, perhaps a piece of who they were will live on, as well...