When I was a girl, my mother had a big wooden box hidden away in the spare bedroom. It was full of photographs and family history – slides of my grandfather in Italy as a boy, my grandmother during her teen years in Detroit, my mother’s own adventures in Europe as a travel hungry university student in the 1970s.

I was always kept out of this box of treasures. Every time I asked my mother if I could look through the images, she’d say “What do you want to look at those old photos for” and change the subject. She never looked through them either. But she kept this box…

Fast forward 20 years, and my mother passed away. While my brother and I were cleaning out her house, I came across the fabled box of photographs. I spent hours with them. I found slides, photographs, letters. I learned so much about both sides of my family, and was fascinated by all of it.

Why am I telling you this story? I worry about the younger generation not having this experience. Photos are taken with iPhones now, and I can’t remember the last time I received a letter from someone under 60.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the digital world. I’m fascinated by how easy it is to chat with my relatives far away, how businesses can engage with their customers, and how much opportunity it has brought us. However, there is something to be said for picking up a 75 year old piece of paper and seeing your ancestors on it. I worry that teenagers now will never get that experience, that feeling of wonder, the feeling of pride that comes with knowing who and where you came from.

When my grandmother on my fathers side passed away a couple of years ago, my cousin, the wonderful Boo Long, rescued hundreds of slides destined for the dumpster. In these boxes were almost 100 years of Casey family history. My cousins and I were fascinated by the photos and shared many memories and moments together over them. Below are a few of my personal favourites.

Visit any elderly persons home, and you’ll see a visual representation of their lives. Photographs, knick knacks, usually everything has a story. Granted, modern design and the desire to live clutter free means most of us don’t want to live in a house that looks like our grandmothers, but didn’t you always feel comfortable and cozy visiting Grandma? Will our grandchildren come to visit us in a sterile environment where the only evidence of their history is on hard drives?

Some would say I’m being a sentimental fool, and that we are better without all these physical objects cluttering up the home. Maybe that’s true. Even so, I will continue to collect physical photographs. I will treasure that wooden box of photographs until the day I die, and will always hold on to the hope that whoever I entrust them to when I leave will appreciate them as much as I did.