[extensively revised]
Not that I ever really knew him: he died in ’57, while we were overseas. This picture was taken in Chestertown, MD around what, 1950? ’49? Earlier?? You could walk all the way down to the marsh from Campus Avenue then, just strolling across the cornfields. It’s not that way now, more’s the pity…
I was so proud of that hat!
Yes, that’s a propeller beanie, my pride and joy, the secret symbol lurking in this post. Granddad (that’s what we called him) is pretty much a mystery to me, but he loved me when it counted. Sometimes that’s all we have, a scrap of memory like this. It opens a pathway to something very deep and hidden, like my boyhood hiking through the muddy corn stubble to the edge of the Chester River in a simpler, elemental time.
UPDATE: If that picture was taken at around the same time as the one in the header image, then I’ve not dated the latter correctly. The image this morning at this Firedoglake post prompted me to dig this photo up, BTW. Very strong energy release today. That beanie may be my Rosebud.
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{ 7 comments… read them below or add one }
Our youngest son is nicknamed Beanie because he wore a very similar cap, and does EVERY family have a father and son Lawn mowing photograph ?? !! Gotta love it though, and some days, you just gotta revisit those things! Thanks for the reminder John….. Steve
This is my GRANDFATHER, not my father. A big difference.
My father never did anything like this… the worst days of my life were when any kind of “father-son” event was sponsored by school or Boy Scouts. I’m 61 years old and still haven’t processed it all.
Sorry John, not trying to pick any scabs, and you are right, that makes a HUGE difference….lo ciento mi amigo…. Steve
I’ll just “wait in the car” and try to get my foot out of my mouth as it were…WHEW! Tough one buddy…… Steve
Hey, no problem.
It’s a lot more than a scab, but “picking” it is exactly what’s required.
Not sure what you listened to in 1972, but it sure makes me think of a Gentle Giant song… “let’s peel the paint, look underneath, you’ll see the same old savage beast” …!! Time to feed ‘em or kill ‘em I suppose, me – I think I have just been painting over ‘em for too long! Steve
These “scraps of memory” really do make us who we are, or at least the core emotional essence of who we are, don’t they?