Recently I've been going thru my mom's things, as we prepare to sell her place. Even in an apartment, there are a surprising number of nooks where memories are stashed, like Easter eggs awaiting the eager hands of children. For example, I found a photo of my grandfather, holding my dad, in 1933. Judging by the foliage and my grandfather's shirtsleeves, it is summer, making dad only slightly younger than Tori is now. Tho my grandfather was a drunk, and a mean one at that, this photo reveals nothing of his struggles with the bottle, the infidelities and broken promises, the parade of failed jobs or no job at all, the long lines at the relief office, or the hard times the whole country was feeling in the 1930s. Only a tender moment between father and child.
I've taken the liberty of creating a timeline composite photo with some you may already have seen.