My mother is an intelligent woman.
I'm not sure if it's an official "rule", but it's encouraged when visiting her house that before any of us kids leave, we must visit the basement and collect something from our childhood. It's a slow way to clean out all the clutter, but it keeps us from having to clean it out all at once (which is a frightening prospect!).
Even though I know, when I go down those stairs, I'm going to experience an arachnoleptic fit at some point while I'm in the basement, I still go willingly... because there is always some treasure to find. Like this:
That's the Polaroid camera (on the left) my mother used to document our family when my brother and I were kids. It weighs about as much as a brick and it'll smash your fingers when you close it. But it holds great sentimental value because it lets me see what my mother saw when I was little.
My mother has always been supportive of my creative endeavors with photography. She never pushed it on me, but she did always express her approval. I think I inherited my mother's (and even her mother's) desire to document the important, quiet moments of life with a camera.
I should probably have saved this post for her birthday... or for Mother's Day. But I couldn't wait.
I'm going to go see if I can dig up some film at the Impossible Project. If they don't have any, I'll keep looking and see what I can come up with...