In my bedroom hangs a portrait of a soldier. I'm sure I was told his name more than once; I wish I'd paid more attention. He looks somewhat like my step-grandfather, so I'm guessing he's a brother, possibly the beloved Uncle James. The uniform is from World War I. His handsome Scottish face radiates goodness. Whoever he is, he's worth remembering.
Sunday, February 18, 2018
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27/ Places: Selling Stuff
I've been selling stuff (there's no better word to describe things we've owned but no longer want) online for a dozen or more ye...
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My parents lived in Greenwich Village when I was born, but moved to Queens when I was still very young. They chose an apartment in Woodside ...
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1952, age 9: Newly motherless and too young to fully appreciate the effort it must have taken my dad to have a tree and gifts that year, I s...
It is good that you have this hanging on a wall. I have a framed photograph that is probably someone in the family -- Mom's side, but I don't know who it is.
ReplyDeleteEven if we're interested in family stories when we're younger, most of us don't retain all those names of people we've never met.
ReplyDeleteHow nice. This is perhaps an argument for writing names on the back of old family photos. My mother unfortunately, in her dementia, started writing names on the photo itself. I don't recommend that! lol
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