The Changing Scene of Photo Boxes

I remember that rubbermade box. It’s in my parents basement as we speak. Full of loose photographs of my childhood. Naked baby pictures that no non-family eyes have seen. Photos of those beautiful and embarrassing child moments that bring tears to the eyes of mothers and cringes to the eyes of those who are the photos subject matter. 
Those were the days though. A simpler time, where photos were developed from negatives via, extremely complex chemical knowledge. When you had no choice but to make physical copies, or risk having none at all. You stored away those little film tubes until you could get them developed. Trying to keep all those memories in little boxes.
Now I keep my photos in memory drives. I have three Hard Drives full of just photos that my computer can’t hold. Some I have backed up in “The Cloud” which sounds like an immortalized and mythical data stream; as if those memories have now since died, but found eternal life in a digital heaven, with some kind of digital god who gets paid several thousand a year to stay pasty white, sleepless, and protect information that he never inspired. I imagine him in his late thirties and wearing hipster glasses, kinda chunky from not leaving his desk much, with a desk full of geek inspired idols of Iron Man, Invader Zim, and bibles about programming and other information technology that goes over my head. 
I often get angry at myself for not taking the time and money to print some of those moment. I have disc drive upon disc drive of moments from college that I wished to have immortalized. Maybe to hang on my wall and remind me of how I wasn’t alone in the world. So I could talk to them on the phone and stare into their smiling it goofy faces. Why didn’t I invest in those kinds of things like my parents did? Why was I missing out on that accomplishment? Even some of my artsy photography never seemed to make it to print. The first time since high school, I printed four photos for myself to hang on my wall. Four. That’s it. In almost 7 years, the last photos I got printed, were four photos from my trip to England! Great photos, I’m very happy to have them, but that was all I have printed. That’s it! 
My parents knew what was up. They knew the importance of capturing and keeping those memories. I just toss them into the cloud and hope they’re there when I decide what to do with them. 
How careless I am with my memories. 

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