I've become the Library of Congress for both sides of my family, the repository for old photo albums, diaries and instruments. I like this job; it suits me. I love poring over pictures of, words by and information about long-gone ancestors, trying to understand better who they were, what their times were like.
Over the years, my cousins on the Brigham side have given me their father's banjo; family photo albums, including one that our grandfather filled with photos from trips to Europe, Russia and Japan; and diaries written in both English and French by our grandfather. I also have a photo album compiled by a great-uncle on my grandmother's side (the LaVentures) who I never met. It's filled with photos of equestrian events and military camps from WWII and it's absolutely fascinating.
From my cousins on the Bogert side of the family, I have inherited an accordion that belonged to our grandfather and, most recently, a treasure trove of home movies, slides and film equipment that also belonged to him. That's the subject of today's post, and others to follow.
(My grandparents at what appears to be a terrific picnic.)
I've written about my grandfather, Al Bogert, before (see January 5, 2015, "Take My Grandfather, Please"). He was a fun-loving guy who livened things up when he and my grandmother would visit my family, usually around the holidays. He would pull quarters from behind our ears, do card tricks, take part in games, play the piano and brighten up the whole place. My grandmother, Mildred, was sweet as could be and much quieter, but she was always quick to smile and laugh along.
Grandpa Bogert was good with his hands, and fixed TVs and radios on the side to make money. He also loved trains; one of my fondest memories of him is hanging out in his attic with my brother, running his model trains around the room. Perhaps my grandfather's greatest passion, other than family, was making home movies and taking pictures. I have a clear vision of him taking photos with a Polaroid in my childhood backyard. I was fascinated when the photo would emerge from the bottom of the camera, and so excited to see what it would look like when it had fully developed after a minute or two.
My mother talks a lot about how much she enjoyed watching her father make movies, especially around Christmastime. With the help of my grandmother, my grandfather would make movies of himself dressed as Santa, emerging from the fireplace (a cardboard prop). These movies were silent, so he would film intertitles indicating what the story was, and then offering credits at the end. If he was driving somewhere, and he saw a train approaching, he would call out, "Mil! Mil! Get the camera!" according to my mom. My grandmother deserves more credit than she gets for being his sometime-cinematographer, co-director and craft service provider.
Below is a short video I made soon after my cousins handed over our grandfather's film archive. Stay tuned for updates as I go through stuff more closely, and select movies to convert to digital files.
