Family

This is the map. If you’ve followed the series, this ties the pieces together. If you’re starting here, this is the whole system in one view — how my daughter’s photos and videos get from two phones to my eighty-seven-year-old mother’s tablet, sorted by month, for nothing per month. The Whole Pipeline [Dad's phone] [Mom's phone] | | Synology Drive auto-backup (over the internet) | | v v [ Home NAS: two backup folders ] <- never edited | hourly check copies NEW files (skips anything already handled) v [ Working folder: the "cutting board" ] | I open a browser gallery and pick the keepers v [ One "Import" button ] - convert videos to H.264 720p (ffmpeg) - resize photos - file into Year / Month by the file's date v [ Growth archive on the NAS ] | served over a free Cloudflare tunnel v [ Kids Player app -> "My Records" tab ] - tap a month - videos play continuously - photos drift by, gently zooming v [ Grandmother's tablet. Daughter's tablet. ] Every arrow except one is automatic. The single human step is “pick the keepers,” and it takes about a minute a day. ...

A perfectly sorted archive is worthless if the people it’s for can’t watch it. My two viewers are an eighty-seven-year-old and a two-year-old. Between them, they can’t manage menus, can’t type, and won’t tap through a playlist. So the watching part had to be as close to zero-effort as I could make it. The rule I designed to was simple: pick a month, then sit back. Everything after that first tap should happen on its own. ...

The whole archive starts with one simple rule: every photo either of us takes should land on our home NAS by itself, with no monthly cloud fee. Two phones, one box in the house, automatic. That’s the first stage of the pipeline. It mostly “just works” — until, one day, it quietly doesn’t. This post covers both: how to set it up, and how I noticed one phone had stopped. ...

My wife takes a photo of our daughter at lunch. That evening, my eighty-seven-year-old mother taps 2026 → July on her tablet, and there it is. No one uploaded anything. No one shared a link. The photo just traveled, on its own, from a phone to a grandmother’s screen. This post walks the whole path and tells you honestly how long each step takes. The Path, Stage by Stage Here’s the trip a single photo makes: ...

My daughter was born in 2024. By the time she turned two, my wife and I had taken about 10,000 photos and videos of her. Every one of them was safely backed up to my home NAS. And every one of them was, in practice, lost. Not lost like deleted. Lost like a box in the attic you keep meaning to open. The files were there — I just could never find the ones I wanted, because they were mixed in with screenshots, receipts, memes, and every other photo two adults take in two years. “Backed up” had quietly become “buried.” ...

Give a two-year-old a tablet and you know what usually happens. A cartoon starts, then autoplay picks the next one, louder and faster, and twenty minutes later she’s somewhere you never chose. My daughter has a different first choice now. She opens her own player, taps My Records, and watches herself — as a baby, at her first birthday, on an ordinary Tuesday last month. She’ll do this for an hour. She skips the cartoons to get to it. ...

My mother is eighty-seven. She lives in the countryside, by the Boseong River. She has never made an account for anything, never typed a password she chose herself, and she would not know what “the cloud” means. But tonight she is holding a Galaxy tablet, and on it she is watching her granddaughter — my daughter — as a newborn. Then at six months. Then last week. She taps a folder marked 2026, then July, and there is a video my wife shot this afternoon. ...

Everything in this series so far — the app, the tablet, Termux, the transcription, the search — was really the how. This post is the why. And the why is a person. He is eighty this year. For decades he has studied the Bible and explained it to others, twice a week, online, asking nothing in return. He once told his listeners that you shouldn’t walk out your front door in the morning before you read the Bible. That’s the kind of man he is. He gives people their daily bread, every day, and then steps out of the way. ...

My daughter is three. My phone takes about 6,000 photos and videos a year — maybe more. I don’t have 6,000 interesting shots. Most of it is accidental taps, blurry motion, seventeen near-identical photos of the same bread I was about to eat. But somewhere in that pile are the clips I actually care about: her first steps, her laughing at something she found hilarious at the time, moments my wife and I know we’ll want to see again when she’s older. ...

My phone has backed up about six thousand photos and videos from 2025 alone. On my PC, I run a local browser tool — pick_yeju.py — that lets me scroll through them, pick the ones worth keeping, and copy them into my daughter’s media library on our NAS. The files are sorted oldest-first. Six thousand of them. That’s about ninety pages at sixty per page. The problem: every time I restarted the tool, it opened at page one. I’d have to scroll back through to wherever I’d left off the previous session. Ten, twenty, thirty pages — just to find my place again. ...