begin here.

In 2012 I began the process of sorting through and packing up my grandparent’s home after the death of my grandmother. It was a very large house with an attic, a basement and many closets –full of souvenirs of lives no longer lived. I sorted through most of the house alone late into the night. As I sifted through old grocery lists sandwiched between private detective reports and old Christmas cards I realized that I was actually sorting through a veritable time capsule decades in the making. A snapshot of the two of them but also a snapshot of an era and a way of life that would not be repeated. As I unearthed mementos that become useless in death it struck me again and again how fitting it was that my grandfather’s favorite film was Frank Capra’s You Can’t Take It With You. My grandparent’s had truly lived the American Dream born into rural Mid-Western and Southern working-class lives and dying in a mansion in Beverly Hills. All the money in the world though couldn’t have prolonged their living and shortened their dying. The happiest of lives and love stories all end tragically as the Hollywood Ending always ends long before the actual end. Afterwards someone else comes along and decides what of your life is worth saving and what souvenirs will fabricate your history.