Today, August 2, is my father's birthday. If he were still alive, he would be NINETY-NINE years old. No, I'm not kidding. He only lived to be fifty-seven, the combination of a three-pack-a-day Chesterfield habit and an affinity for Pearl beer. He had a massive stroke, and that was that. I was just barely a sophomore in high school, and it thrust me right into having major family responsibilities. Another story, another day.
Above is a digital artist's trading card that I made for a "motherhood" swap with an online group. That is my father with his mother in 1910. How about that Gibson Girl hair and the tightly cinched waist on my grandmother?
Here's another digital scrapbook page I made of my father playing dominoes with his father well before I was born. The dominoes on the page are scans of the same ones they were playing with in the photo. I still have them in a box in my dresser.
