Going through the photos is like going through a version of the old TV show This Is Your Life, except that, as often as not, it is someone else's life. Here is one of a buddy of mine sitting on the couch, grinning, his arm around his first ex-wife. A few photos later, here he is again, this time with his second ex-wife.

Some photos measure loss. Here is a picture of one of the best-hearted people I've ever known. He is standing with his mother in front of the tree, smiling his trademark broad, warm smile. He was one of the first people to visit the hospital when Sam was born. Thick as thieves we were back then. We've since drifted apart. Nothing caused it, really. Nothing I recall. Just, life. Here is another guy whom I haven't seen in years, but that was by mutual agreement. He's smart, funny, a tremendous gastronome, and, like me, argumentative. We just butted heads one too many times to want to butt heads anymore.

There is Sam's first rock band, Three Hours Sleep; the boys are 12 years old, each holding his instrument, like some early photograph of the Beatles. And Sam, around three years old, clowning in the bathtub with his pals. And those pals' mother, a beloved friend who moved away but now lives only an hour from us because we moved away, too. And another beloved friend who moved away but now lives only 10 minutes from us. And her first husband (yes, also beloved), who moved away as well and now lives across town from us. How did we all end up here?

And there is my mom and her husband, who, after the deaths of their spouses, met and married one another and have been together 25 years, my mother beaming, her husband with a Cheshire cat smile, their expressions epitomizing their hot and cool personalities and their ease with each other.

And Jessica's mother, several different pictures through the years, looking as she has always looked, serene and beautiful - and, of course, well dressed.