I love old pictures, and I also love to display them. There's one problem, though. They are extremely fragile.Several years ago, for Christmas my husband gave me a glass curio cabinet that I promptly filled with old framed photographs and relics of our pasts. Along with pictures of a nice-looking gentleman standing by his Model T while his girl-friend perched on the running board (a couple who became my grandparents), the old general store run by my husband's grandparents, and both of our parents' wedding days were my baby shoes, his father's tie tac, my grandmother's thimble . . . You get the idea. I love all the things in that cabinet. It is our history--nothing with any intrinsic value but to us, priceless.
One day, however, I walked by and noticed that a couple of the pictures in front had been severely damaged by the sunlight--both pictures of a young me. I had the only copies of these photos, so I took them to a restorer and just got them back yesterday. One of them is above. That's a picture of my second grade class at Aubrey Elementary, and that's me, front and center, in the green dress. The other picture is of Santa and me. You'll have to wait until after Thanksgiving to see that one.
