I've wondered why I like old photographs so much. Do you suppose it's for the same reason some people like to read books, or watch movies, or read poetry? I can almost get lost in a good old photograph. I place myself there and try to imagine what the people are doing and thinking, what is the occasion, what their day-to-day lives might be like.
Not many books would write more than a few pages about the drudgery of daily survival in an
average household---it would be too boring. I certainly have no desire to go back and live the times. Life looks difficult, to say the least, and makes me appreciate now. Time must have seemed to pass by even more rapidly than it seems to now, because a big part of it must have been just keeping up with daily chores.
I don't usually like posed photos, but according to the writing on this one, this is the
House and Family of J. M. Ash, in the same town, with the school house, where my grandmother lived, so it has more significance. The house surely was torn down by the time I was aware of anything, so no need to drive around and search. But I can imagine where it
might have been. I know there were lots of Ashes still in town when I visited there. I heard the gossip. Don't remember the gossip, but remember many of the names.