ChambleeAmanda_NAR

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Amanda ChambleeDr. Erin Dietel-McLaughlinFYC 13100September 2, 2010

Pictures From the Past

It hung on the wall above the fireplace, so big it was almost life-size.

The brown frame made out of wood, an intricate design carved along the

sides as if it were an extension of the wrinkles from her face. The curly gray

tresses complimented the brown tone of her sun-kissed skin. The circular,

silver-rimmed glasses that hung low on the edge of her nose shimmered in

the flash of the camera light. Every time I looked at it, her smile captivated

me more than anything else about her. I do not recall the moment this photo

was taken; I was not present. I never knew the woman frozen in this

snapshot, forever enclosed within the frame. But I know of her memory, and

in that she is more alive than ever.

Dorothy Chamblee was my grandmother, a small woman with a big

heart. Mother of six children and grandmother of many grandkids, she loved

to be around family. She was an amazing cook, or so I have heard from the

many stories my father tells me about her. The one thing I remember her

making me was grits. Those slimy little specs of tasteless filth became my

favorite thing to eat for breakfast; and I have her to thank for it. She always

served them warm with a hint of salt and a touch of melted butter simmering

on top. I would watch it run down my spoon as I scooped up the first bite. My

mouth would clench and a smile would appear on my face as I savored the

unique taste and funny texture. But that was all I had. That was all I could



remember of her. Here was this amazing woman to whom I was proud to be

related and yet all I could connect her to was something as simple and as

miniscule as breakfast. It is in these moments that I get frustrated with

myself. I try to reach deep down into the lowest parts of my memory in

hopes that I might find one new instance or one more thing about her that I

did not remember before.

Although my memory sometimes comes up short, I have technology to

thank for helping me keep her alive in my thoughts. When I see family

photos, I get a sense of how happy my grandma was to be around her

children. Instances like this allow me to get a fuller picture of what my

grandmother was like. Not only can a camera capture a memory and keep it

with its holder forever, it can also capture a moment in time from someone

else’s past and make it an experience one can visualize. Since I was not

around when my dad was little, I would have never been able to see what a

tight family bond he had with his mother. But because of technology, I can

step into my father’s past and bring back with me another piece of the

puzzle that is my grandma. The picture of my dad in his marine uniform, for

instance, shows my grandma with a tear streaming down her face as her

second son prepares to go off to the Marine Corps. This photograph shows

me how much my father meant to my grandma and how much his decisions

affected her life. She did not want her son to leave her but she knew she had

to let him go so he could fulfill what he wanted to do in life.



Photographs are memories in solid form; and with these memories, the

imagination can turn the gears of creativity. Sometimes I look at a picture of

my grandmother and it puzzles me. What is she looking at? Who is she

talking too? Why is she smiling? All these questions can be answered with

imagination. I do not always need to know the whole story in order to be able

to craft an explanation on my own. This is why pictures are fun. Unlike a

movie that captures all there is to know about what is going on, pictures

leave their viewer with unanswered questions and therefore enough room to

creatively improvise. This allows me to get a more satisfying experience

because it allows me to control the memory and make it my own. For

example, when I look at the picture of my grandma holding my brother when

he was a baby, I like to pretend I know exactly what she is thinking. She

looks down upon him and she sees a beautiful baby boy with a nose like his

father’s, ears like his mother’s, and the beginnings of a small afro similar to

hers. She also sees the potential in him to be a great athlete one day, which

he has become, and the twinkle in her eyes makes me think she is proud of

him. And it is a wonderful sight, my brother smiling as he reaches up to

touch my grandmother’s face.

Memories, whether enjoyable, sad, happy, or bad, are the instances we

hold onto in order to keep a single event, person, thing, or place with us

even when we have left that thing behind. The wooden frame, and the

picture within it, encases my grandma’s memory. For this, I thank the

camera that captured the shot. Memories are possible without technological



advance, but with technology they are easier to keep, easier to recall. The

invention of a camera, which can take a moment in time, freeze it forever,

and develop it into a small piece of paper that one can hold in his or her

hand, has drastically influenced the way we look at time. Although my

grandma passed away when I was two, I can still look at her face sixteen

years later. It enables me to remember her in greater clarity because I can

associate the couple memories I have with her distinct face and not just with

a formless figure. Cameras also help me recall memories of my grandma.

Without these pictures in front of me to jog my memory, I may not have had

anything to hold on to beyond a fragmented, childhood memory of morning

grits.

As technology advances, so can our perceptions of things past. From

an intangible vision in our minds, to a concrete photo we can hold in our

hands, to a video with movement and sound effects, to maybe even a

hologram that we can interact with, the possibilities are endless and allow us

to partake in a more enriching experience. Although I do not have a video of

my grandma to tell me how she sounds when she talks or to display her

personality, I do possess an imagination that can gaze upon a photo of her

and fill in all the gaps. And every time I look at her smile in that picture, that

photo from her camera above our fireplace, I smile back and say, “I love you

grandma.”

ChambleeAmanda_NAR

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