As the first grandchild, many similar versions of this picture exist: Baby Scott climbing into and out of the sandbox in Evanston, IL. The home movies from that day demonstrate my prodigious walking skills, up and down the sidewalk as the adults continually caught me and turned me back towards safety.
On the reverse side is written Scottie, which was what my maternal grandmother called me until adulthood; no one else used that growing up. I assume Mom acquired the picture when she cleared out her mother’s house, much the same as we, her children, are doing.
I won’t say Mom was a hoarder, but she definitely collected; however, she didn’t organize or safely store anything. Perhaps it was that her follow-through was not great. We’ve uncovered boxes and boxes of moldy, stuck-together pictures, some salvageable and some not. Same with books and magazines. Undeveloped film (fortunately not Kodachrome). Wedding invitations for a couple now divorced. Christmas decorations bought and never used. Family silverware – unknown from what family – just rusty in the unheated garage. Old, outdated educational material. The list goes on.
This is not just because she was aging, this is whom she was forever. Decades ago, a lens for her 35mm camera had mold that had embedded itself into the glass itself. Apparently still usable, it just sheds light on her personality: organization and correctly handling of almost anything was not her strong suit (except for her children)!
Before Mom’s death, I have facetiously stated that my children and grandchildren are responsible for clearing out our house after the bodies are removed. Now, after suffering going through Mom’s stuff, I realize that may constitute cruel and unusual punishment. Sigh…
