"People are in their own worlds here," Cheryl says, clearly in hers. "Completely absorbed, but still sharing."
All around Cheryl's chair, as well as underneath it, are the tools of her trade: folders and envelopes containing every possible shade of paper, scissors that cut in various decorative edges, hundreds of novelty stickers, pigment pens reputed never to fade and, of course, a wealth of snapshots. The women around her are similarly supplied, their baskets crammed with the crafty overflow associated with the hobby known as scrapbooking.
Scrapbooking is why you come to a Crop Retreat Weekend sponsored by Creative Memories, the direct-marketing company responsible for the resurgence of this age-old fad. Here the women can share not just their single-minded fascination with photo albums, but with the "safe" preservation of family artifacts. All of them have inherited color prints from the Sixties that faded over time, yellowing black-and-whites from the Forties, "magnetic albums" that distorted or destroyed the prints within. No more! This acid-free paper and those plastic page protectors will make their work last long after the next millennium has come and gone.
At 2 p.m. on this Saturday afternoon in November, Cheryl and her sixty retreat-mates have already been sitting at one of six thirty-foot-long tables, pasting, trimming and otherwise arranging photographs, for nearly 24 hours, having slept only when absolutely necessary. They have come here as their ancestors might have gone to a quilting bee -- eager to bond with other like-minded women, yet delighted to be left alone. Some of them are here for the fifth year in a row.
There is plenty of work to do. The role of the family historian has become more complicated since these women were young girls. For one thing, a lot more pictures are being taken -- and made into duplicates -- and a lot fewer hours are available in which to archive them. Most of the room's dedicated "croppers" were once completely negligent, piling up snapshots in a shoebox, which is bad, or slapping them into a "sticky album," which is worse. But then they discovered Creative Memories and began producing the elaborately organized and decorated albums that are the company's trademark.
Imagine a photograph, circa 1961. Imagine that it shows the Brendan family -- husband, wife, kids and a friend -- on the beach. And say this photo's been sitting in someone's desk drawer for nearly forty years. If a Creative Memories acolyte were to acquire this photograph, she might put it through the following transformation: