I love old photos. There aren't many of these in our family, and they aren't really old - all were taken during or after the World War II, but I keep my inky fingers on them and patiently convert them into digital files, to kep them safe. I feel moved seeing my father in long white socks or my mother with an imbressive ribbon in her hair. I love finding aunts, who I only know from our family stories. That is tha magic of od photos - life scraps kept ina pieces of paper.
One one of those oldies we've got a family gathering, all children in one place - brothers, sisters and cousins, who were in similar age and used to sped all their summer holidays together in the countryside, in the same village. We still have a summer house there. My dad is second from the left :)