Like many of us here, I've got a lifetime of prints and negatives in binders and albums. Every decade they are more and more historically significant to some future person (not necessarily a member of my family). I think the most important thing to do is to physically label and date each image neatly, accurately and completely, in language that anybody can understand.
Nobody knows how JPG's and the like will stand the test of time, but it's a sure thing that most of our negatives and prints will survive 50 to 100+ years to tell the stories of our lives and times and how we saw them.
If the context and narrative does not get transported into the future along with the pictures, they will be much less interesting to the inhabitants of 2065 or 2115. Last week I was at an antique book fair and people were pawing through stacks of old photos from the 19th and early 20th centuries. Most of the pictures were unlabeled and sold for a few bucks, but the albums with carefully labeled captions and dates were priced in the hundreds. Remember the Maine? One album had several close-ups of the half-sunken wreck as it lay in Havana harbor just seven years after the sinking. The rest of the book was full of well composed photos of Cuban life in 1905, all captioned. Asking price? $300.
Take a look at the 'Shorpy' website and you'll find thousands of formerly mundane pictures that have been transformed into detailed time capsules by the passage of decades. By now, even family snapshots and school class pictures from the 1970's are starting to look exotic.
Fine art photographs are also more significant if they have a name date or story attached. The appeal of Ansel Adams' most famous image is enhanced by our knowledge that it was taken at Hernandez, New Mexico on an autumn evening in 1941 when Adams screeched to a halt by the side of the road and only had time for one shot before the light faded.
Recently, I discovered the half-frame 35mm format that's used in cameras like the Olympus Pens and the Mercury II, and was immediately attracted by the narrative possibilities of 72 or more frames lined up on a contact print. They're dense and chronological, like a tiny little storyboard. Surprisingly, the shots that might be 'rejected' in any normal editing process seem perfectly OK in this context, so I don't leave them out.
I scan the filmstrips, add detailed captions, then print the high-resolution composite image on two 8x10 pages and mount them back to back in a binder (accompanied by the sleeved filmstrip). The enlarged frames appear on the dual prints about the same size as full-frame 35mm and are easy to see (especially with reading glasses). It's lots of work, but the result is more like an illustrated diary than a photo album, and it's ready-made for some time traveler from the future.