Heather Schroering

His name is Rip. I know that because, well, it’s none of my business. Why someone took a picture of this boy in a button-down on a battleship is none of my business — nor is anything he did on that beach vacation with his family in 1972.

Yet those memories live on my bookcase — discarded snapshots of them at least. It’s none of my business how Rip’s family photo album ended up there, by way of an antique shop in Southern Illinois. But collecting old photos is my business. And when people leave their stuff around for someone else to claim, well — perhaps we shouldn’t lose things if we don’t want to be found.