There is nothing like a box of pictures to encourage nostalgia. For me, however, and, I suspect anyone who has lost family members, the nostalgia feels a bit like being blind, or at least looking through extremely foggy glasses, but without anyone to help clarify the images. Both of my parents are gone and, having followed their footsteps through South Dakota, with nearly the same baggage in tow (an eight year old and a two year old, as opposed to two eights) but a much more comfortable car, I would love to swap stories.
Instead, the pictures are like pieces of a puzzle that I can use to piece together my incomplete childhood memories (Cousin, by the way, whose memory of the trivia, and details of life is impeccable, is of little or no help here).
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