This kills me.
And yet I have boxes and boxes of photos and slides of relatives I never met, many of whom died before I was even born. I feel some obligation to keep them. So they’ve been with me for decades, moving from house to house, a ball and chain of sorts. Will my young son care about it? I don’t know. Why do I feel obligated to keep them? These people lived lives as full as and rich and as real as mine and yours. And the only memory of those lives is in some old photos that in some cases names can’t even be identified.
That's why I'm so glad my grandfather wrote a book about his life when he was in his late 60s. You'd think it would be boring, but his life as an immigrant to Canada from Finland was fascinating, and he only included the interesting bits. The book is only about 150 pages of easy reading, and even people who barely knew him have enjoyed it. So I'm quite confident that he at least will be remembered by his descendants.
A couple of years ago I even digitized it into a website, which makes it so easy to share among the family.
I have started asking my family to give me all of the old physical pictures we have so I can scan and upscale them. But then there’s no good place to share and tag them all for a large family.
One interesting bit is generalisable knowledge can be inferred from old pictures, but that'd be mostly relevant for specific events, or very old pictures.
Although I guess vacation pictures from e.g. the post-war period could be useful for ecological studies, if their location is known. Things like indoor christmas pictures, less so, even though from an emotional perspective they were undoubtedly dear to whoever took them.