Why unlabeled family photographs are a genealogist’s nightmare – and what to do about it.

I’m interrupting your regularly scheduled travel and drinks programming for a post from my other hobby: genealogy. And yes, I have other hobbies besides drinks and traveling. I realize this is not what you came here for. But – bear with me – there’s a dead woman named Martha Bell involved, and I think you’re going to find her interesting.

A Box of Dead People

When my great-aunt Ellen passed away, she left behind piles of beautiful old photo albums, and a huge box of loose photographs. Only a few of those photographs had any indication of who these people were. Were they family? Friends? We have no idea. They are lost to us now because nobody labeled them. And now, there’s no one alive who remembers.

They are, essentially, just a box of dead people.

But, the genealogist in me couldn’t bear to part with them. Aunt Ellen kept these photos for a reason – these people mattered enough to her that she saved their photographs, from an era when having your picture taken was an actual event. So I borrowed an idea from a friend, and framed my favorites. They live on a dresser in my guest room. I call them my dead people. I have no idea who these people were, but now they belong to me.

Why Unlabeled Family Photos Are Such a Loss

Ken and I just spent a week in California cleaning out his dad’s house after he moved to assisted living. We found an entire box of old photographs. Beautiful pictures – both formal portraits and candid snapshots. And almost none of them were labeled. The few that were had notes like this written on the back: “The family at the farm.”

Which farm? Which family? When?

Nobody knows anymore. The people who did know are either gone or no longer remember. What felt completely obvious to the person who wrote it – so obvious it didn’t seem worth explaining – is now a complete mystery to everyone who came after. They are lost, and they are going to stay lost.

Family history disappears in fires and floods, yes – but more often, it disappears quietly, in the assumption that someone else will remember.

How to Label Family Photographs Properly

Here is my PSA, and I’m going to make it as simple as possible. If you take nothing else from this post, take this: label the back of your photos.

At a minimum, include:

• Full names of everyone pictured – not “Grandma” or “Uncle Bob,” but names that will mean something to someone fifty years from now.
• Approximate year
• Location, if you know it
• How the people in the photo are related to you.

Here’s a concrete example. I have a photograph of my great-great grandmother, Martha Bell – a formal portrait from an era when having your picture taken was an actual event that you got dressed for. On the front, someone wrote “Granma Bell.” Which is sweet. And completely useless to anyone who comes after me, because Granma Bell to whom, exactly? Related how? From where?

So I made a proper label for the back of the photo. Full name. Approximate years. How she connects to me and the two generations between us. That context is the difference between a mystery and a story.

Speaking of stories . . . Martha Bell is our family secret – and a giant roadblock in my genealogy research. Martha had three children and never married – and nobody knows, or is around to tell, who the father was. Can you imagine? An unmarried mother in rural Kentucky in the 1870s?? You know that must have been the talk of every church pew in the county. And yet, I have never heard even so much as a “we think it was so and so”. I even hired a DNA researcher to work the problem backwards through my Ancestry matches. No dice. Martha took that secret with her to the grave, and for now, at least, it’s staying there.

I’m not giving up. But I’m not optimistic.

A Plea from the Your Resident Genealogist

If you’re sitting on a box of old family photos, here is my strong advice: open a bottle of wine and sit down with the oldest relative who might remember who’s in the box and start talking – and labeling.

You will hear stories you have never heard. About weddings, feuds, family businesses, childhood homes, relatives who packed a single bag and started over somewhere new. Write everything down while the memories are still available to be written. Because once the people who hold those memories are gone, no amount of research or wishing is going to bring that information back.

Label your photographs. Do it today, not someday.

Don’t let your family photographs become another box of dead people.

Cheers — and go label something before you talk yourself out of it.

(Travel and drinks resume next week. Martha would have wanted it that way.)