When I was 9 my family took a road trip to California in a 1986 vanagan. My parents took a lot of photos and they dutifully got them developed. Then, they went into a box on the floor of their walk-in closet. That cardboard box, I learned, held my families history, our narrative. I came to realized that those snapshots, blurry misfires, and timed family portraits are priceless.