Sorry that things have been a bit quite here on the blogging front; it's been a slow few weeks. I was over at my mom's house yesterday rummaging around and came across some old family photos.
We have so few from my dad's childhood years that I couldn't resist sharing.
First, a few of my Grandmother Nonie, who recently passed away. My Dad's mother. I know the one on the left is definitely her, the jawline and rather stubborn glint in her eye are definitive proof. What do you think about the one on the right though? Same person? The photo of her as a very young girl so clearly shouts "Nonie" but I'm having trouble reconciling this teenage Nonie (on right) with the adult version. I'll have to consult with the parental units on that one...
The house where my dad grew up: Windy Fields. What a sweet drawing. I wonder if I could work some photoshop magic and turn a photo of our home into a sketch.
And my dad, as a wee little tyke. Look at those chubby cheeks. I didn't know that he was a blond baby, too.
This photo was taken during my dad's tenure at St. Marks. On the Charles River, that's him in bow. This configuration is a bit usual, notice that it's starboard rigged. For all those rowers out there, take a look at the coxswain, see how he has his arms way out on the sides? It looks like he's grasping cables that run out from rudder. This must pre-date the wooden knobs-on-the-side method. Nowadays, the coxswain would be laying down in front, not shouting from the rear. As stroke, I was always rather fond of moving the loud little guy/girl to the front; it was always a bit uncomfortable to be face to face with someone while you were huffing and puffing away at the oar...Interesting how much technology has changed over the last 30-odd years.
And here we have a few from my mother's side: That's my Grandmother. Wowsa. Does anybody else have a hard time reconciling the sweet grandmother that they know and love with...this young, frisky lady? Nice hairdo, Grams.
And perhaps one of my very favorite pictures of my mama and Uncle Bill. Check out my mom's expression (and Bill's too, for that matter). Poor little bunny.
Priceless.
