I recently attended a graduation party for my neighbor’s daughter. It was a fabulous party for a fabulous girl that concluded with a fabulous video of fabulous photos set to fabulous songs.
It was a touching tribute and so well-done, but I have to admit I went home feeling like Brick from the show “The Middle.” In a recent episode, he is reminded that he was voted class historian and charged with the task of creating a photo montage of his classmates through the years. Trouble is he didn’t take any pictures. Oops! (Brick with a blank screen behind him: “I could show you all pictures of your time here at Orson Elementary, but those would be my memories, not yours. ... So sit back and enjoy a musical montage of all your best memories artfully put together in your own imagination ...”)
Now before you judge, I have lots of pictures, I really do. I have fuzzy pictures of dance recitals, shots of the kids in the rain at the bus stop and 417 “selfies” of my oldest daughter on my iPhone. I have photos still in envelopes falling out of a cabinet in my den and lots of videos on some outdated beta tapes. I have some great pictures taped onto the kids’ homemade “timelines” that were part of a school project, and I have some furled-up photos of the kids at Disney World in a desk drawer.
My friends have video collages, slideshows and digital photo albums. They have wine tags showcasing their kids’ milestone moments. They have key chains and necklaces engraved with their children’s names. I have a mug I got at a mall kiosk that is faded and missing the handle. I think my kids are on it, but I can’t tell for sure.