I would take the photos, pick one that shows several people clearly, post it on FB asking if anyone recognizes the people. Say you want to get the photos back to the family if you can. If nothing turns up, donate them to a historical society in the area.And, a shorter one: I was in a desert area, mesas and the like. It was a town abandoned during the Dust Bowl, way out in the middle of nowhere, but a few ranches clung on for some time.
I went through a ranch home that made it to around 2005, judging from some magazines.
Shirts were still in the closet, food still in the refrigerator, and family photos and film all over the floor. The pack rats had not been kind to the place.
I walked around the corrals outside, with a squeaking wind mill.
My friend, waiting at the car, started to walk over from where it was parked a hundred feet or more away. I met him and we turned back to the car.
I asked why he came over, and he says he heard me talking with somebody, that there were voices. It was daytime, incredibly quiet and only a very faint breeze. I suspected it was the wind mill, but he was adament. He firmly denies the existence of spirits or even God.
I never felt anything in that house except supreme sorrow for that persons memory, with their belongings and photos there. Nothing ever felt out of place, and I treated the place with extreme respect. If I ever opened my mouth at all it was to whisper something to myself.
Another story that won’t blow your socks off, but it’s important to me. That house is in my thoughts often. I’d like to find some living relatives and ask if they’d take the photos. I don’t know how I feel about removing anything on my own, even if it is of the purest intentions. Looking at photos of people smiling with their kids, or out on vacation, it’s a hard thing to leave to the ravages of time. Any thoughts?