This picture above is not the best and I cannot adjust it enough to make it better, but I have been thinking about it all day. I was not even there for the picture. I was overseas at the time. I am not even sure what year it was, but I guess it was maybe 1966. Left to right it is my grandfather (a wise man whom raised me as much as my father, perhaps even more) my uncle Kenny ( WW-2 marine who I do not believe ever got over the war) Joyce's father (wonderful man who I never really got to know because I was always gone in the navy and he died a year after the picture was taken) and the last man in the picture, which did not come out for some reason, is my uncle Tom (another good man that influenced me greatly as I grew up.)
The picture was taken in a room my father built as an addition to our home that was built in 1904. It was the only room in the house that was anywhere close to being modern. I got to see it 2 years later than the picture was taken and I was impressed. Dad built that from the ground up and it was wonderful and he did it without any experience or training in construction. Years later he took a flat piece of ground in south-west Missouri and built a garage that amazed all who saw it and he did it with nothing but a set of plans he bought. That garage was sold with the property to a mechanic that used it to earn his living. It is still there 31 years later. There are not a lot of things where my father made me proud (though he was a great man and when he died his whole family suffered a great loss and not every man that dies has a legacy to equal that) but his two building projects could not have been done better by a crew of professionals.
My father had almost died after a head on collision 30 years earlier and barely survived, and there were many things he never got over. One thing was his left leg which was mangled and he was unable to walk for more than a year, but even then that left leg was always cold as a stone in winter. He eventually lost it due to no circulation. It always gave him trouble, it would lock up and he couldn't move. One day when he was building the garage he was up on the garage putting shingles on the roof when his leg locked. Mom was at work, no one was there but him. My youngest brother Rob managed a lumber yard and sold dad all the supplies to build the garage and on that particular day Rob stopped by to see dad's progress. Dad was stuck on that roof when Rob came by. Rob was strong as an ox and he managed to get dad off the roof and down an aluminum ladder and into the house. Rob was my youngest brother and when he died, he too had a host of mourners who still miss him today.
These memories just came flooding back to me today. I never know what causes them to come to me; I never try to recall them, but I am happy that they do. As I write this today, thinking about men who had a strong influence in my life, I can only hope that when I go to wherever it is that souls go, that I will be fondly remembered by those whose lives I may have touched during my life as those men influenced my life.
I just found a picture of uncle Tom (just below), with my aunt Irene on the left and my mother on the right, taken during WW-2. Uncle Tom was a small man, like my grandfather was. He tried to join the marines in WW-2 but he had a heart murmur and they would not accept him and neither would the army or navy. That said,he did take out two big marines who were trying to mess with my aunt and mother during the war, he was short in stature, but he was a lion in his heart, man to admire.
I love those WW-2 outfits on men and the hairdos and dresses on women. I wished I had been in WW-2 for a long time, but then I would be dead now and would never have met Joyce. Life is always a trade off, and I can certainly appreciate that now.
The picture was taken in a room my father built as an addition to our home that was built in 1904. It was the only room in the house that was anywhere close to being modern. I got to see it 2 years later than the picture was taken and I was impressed. Dad built that from the ground up and it was wonderful and he did it without any experience or training in construction. Years later he took a flat piece of ground in south-west Missouri and built a garage that amazed all who saw it and he did it with nothing but a set of plans he bought. That garage was sold with the property to a mechanic that used it to earn his living. It is still there 31 years later. There are not a lot of things where my father made me proud (though he was a great man and when he died his whole family suffered a great loss and not every man that dies has a legacy to equal that) but his two building projects could not have been done better by a crew of professionals.
My father had almost died after a head on collision 30 years earlier and barely survived, and there were many things he never got over. One thing was his left leg which was mangled and he was unable to walk for more than a year, but even then that left leg was always cold as a stone in winter. He eventually lost it due to no circulation. It always gave him trouble, it would lock up and he couldn't move. One day when he was building the garage he was up on the garage putting shingles on the roof when his leg locked. Mom was at work, no one was there but him. My youngest brother Rob managed a lumber yard and sold dad all the supplies to build the garage and on that particular day Rob stopped by to see dad's progress. Dad was stuck on that roof when Rob came by. Rob was strong as an ox and he managed to get dad off the roof and down an aluminum ladder and into the house. Rob was my youngest brother and when he died, he too had a host of mourners who still miss him today.
These memories just came flooding back to me today. I never know what causes them to come to me; I never try to recall them, but I am happy that they do. As I write this today, thinking about men who had a strong influence in my life, I can only hope that when I go to wherever it is that souls go, that I will be fondly remembered by those whose lives I may have touched during my life as those men influenced my life.
I just found a picture of uncle Tom (just below), with my aunt Irene on the left and my mother on the right, taken during WW-2. Uncle Tom was a small man, like my grandfather was. He tried to join the marines in WW-2 but he had a heart murmur and they would not accept him and neither would the army or navy. That said,he did take out two big marines who were trying to mess with my aunt and mother during the war, he was short in stature, but he was a lion in his heart, man to admire.
I love those WW-2 outfits on men and the hairdos and dresses on women. I wished I had been in WW-2 for a long time, but then I would be dead now and would never have met Joyce. Life is always a trade off, and I can certainly appreciate that now.
No comments:
Post a Comment