Old Photos

I found these photos of my mother, her siblings, and her parents in Oklahoma in the 1940s. They were framed at one point and lined a hallway in our first home, but they’ve been tucked away for years, if not decades. I remember making these mats myself. You can see how the beveled edge has yellowed over time.

I’ve written poems about two of these photos: the one of my grandfather in front of the family’s home and the one of my mother pretending to smoke a cigarette on the back of a bicycle her brother is steering. I’m going to incorporate these photos into my dif/Fused Ancestry + suf/Fused Fiber project, perhaps with some of the poems I’ve written about my family.

Everyone in these photos is gone now. They are all my ancestors. Maybe we bury our loved ones on the beach the way my uncle buried his wife because we know we are earth and will return to earth, so we have to practice on those we love most.

Images: 1. A composite of four family photos. 2. My maternal grandfather standing outside his home in Oklahoma. 3. My uncle burying his wife (perhaps then-girlfriend) in the sand at a beach. 4. My uncle riding a bicycle with my mother behind him in front of their home in Oklahoma. My mother is holding a candy cigarette or perhaps a real cigarette.