That's my Dad, of course. Scanned from the 1965 Echo, the Pattonville High School yearbook. I think we lost something important when society abandoned the idea that you had a duty to live your life such that your hometown and your high school would be proud of you.
I took these photos just before we got rid of the VW Vanagon that we had for 17 years. The first two photos are taken from outside the garage. The door in the back of the photo leads to our kitchen. I overbuilt this ramp because I'm not a good enough carpenter to figure out where to cut corners, and because with the "docking" maneuver needed to get our son Ryan out of the van and into the ramp, I knew we woud be banging into this ramp on a regular basis.
My Life Lesson Takeaway: If you have something really important and you don't have the skill to build it like a professional, you can compensate by throwing more and better material at the problem. It's not the cheapest way, but it will get the job done.
It was my Dad Jim who got wounded, not my Uncle George. Long Story Short: They're both alive today, and doing just fine. Their Mother, who had a weak heart, was not so lucky. She died in 1948, and my Dad thinks it was the strain of having 4 sons in the war. And these telegrams.
Taken with my trusty Pocket Instamatic 110, I'm sure. What crappy cameras they were, eh? But no matter - this is always how I'll remember him. RIP, Duke.
Like me and Sykes, for instance. I had such an interesting experience with the whole Coexist thing last time I thought "Oh What The Hell".
