As we near the holidays I miss my dad a little more. I suspect it is far worse for my mother than it is for me. I don’t take comfort in that; I just understand that pain is relative. Everyone experiences pain differently. People are motivated by their needs. My wife, the social worker, says people operate from a mixed bag. I still don’t understand why the relevance of a bag, but I do get that people operate within the box they live in.
One of the pictures is circa 1975, me in the Marching Band uniform for Bloomington High School South. I didn’t enjoy marching band much, although both of my sisters did enjoy it a lot more than I ever did. The other pictures are various family history pictures and pictures my father took during his travels to Europe with my mother. They, mom and dad, often went to conventions events and pleasure.
Many of the family history pictures (Scans) can’t be shared as there is a maximum picture size limit where I post. That said there are many that can be shared. I’ve included in this collection my all time favorite picture of my father. Him, obscured by sunlight looking off into the distance. It isn’t how I remember my father. I remember him planting apple trees. Or telling really bad jokes. I remember him as a compilation not a single moment. But that moment captured by my mother is one of my favorite pictures of him.