tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75994156089884243492024-03-14T05:42:25.131-05:00LogheadStuff like Log Cabins, Kayaking,books, family and my attempts at the art world.JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.comBlogger1074125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-27397832315825179782021-12-05T14:11:00.000-06:002021-12-05T14:11:02.139-06:00Sepia Saturday for Dec 4th, which I am posting on Sunday.<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS4cwQho_8pBo1XlDZ59kye9wojFyIN3ADNnqCY601UIBkybSCWmObFbxcjyI4wdi9N8ZZKzvaxpW8rDvl7sMGD9s_57hI7RKL4ILnN1jMojZVpcTN5gZ3FmTUq4Cxcg-5rWJV_DwgOE-r/s640/E28E00DC-215F-4CD9-84D3-329A8B398BED.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS4cwQho_8pBo1XlDZ59kye9wojFyIN3ADNnqCY601UIBkybSCWmObFbxcjyI4wdi9N8ZZKzvaxpW8rDvl7sMGD9s_57hI7RKL4ILnN1jMojZVpcTN5gZ3FmTUq4Cxcg-5rWJV_DwgOE-r/s320/E28E00DC-215F-4CD9-84D3-329A8B398BED.jpeg" width="256" /></a></div><p><a href="https://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2021/12/sepia-saturday-599-4-december-2021.html">Sepia Saturday</a></p>This photo reminds of an experience I had on a trip to Nepal many years ago.<p></p><p>This man is probably a local just doing his daily job and was photographed while doing it.</p><p>We as tourists do not often ask permission to take these photos, nor do the people hardly ever get paid if this photos are used in major publications.</p><p>We often assume because these scenes are unusual to us, we can take them as part of our tour experience. </p><p>We don't think we are invading someones privacy.</p><p>Social media has made us even more aware of protecting our image, but we don't think of that, often times, when traveling.</p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeo4SRCqQHffpZl3wrrGby9VdMYkgNhUkgwOkmM6fCNMcCZsYzs95t9Tk3_vtjyjYKkuU18gJNGFEbX1BgWYwcx5PB-vA4ExyZnM9IEfkhHFmvu7JGyM8QZxssvZEuCtJNRRDNcLbEc_AP/s2048/PICT2457.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeo4SRCqQHffpZl3wrrGby9VdMYkgNhUkgwOkmM6fCNMcCZsYzs95t9Tk3_vtjyjYKkuU18gJNGFEbX1BgWYwcx5PB-vA4ExyZnM9IEfkhHFmvu7JGyM8QZxssvZEuCtJNRRDNcLbEc_AP/w400-h266/PICT2457.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>Like I said, many years ago I was backpacking in Nepal, and in a tiny village came across these three people.<p></p><p><br /></p><p>One of the people I was walking with stopped to take a picture of this group without asking permission.</p><p>The young lady in the background waved a finger at us and said, "No, no, you pay".</p><p>My travel companion was a little offended by her request, but once I got to thinking about it, it seemed perfectly reasonable.</p><p>My friend walked away and missed this wonderful photo all because he didn't like that the 'tourist attraction' asked to be paid.</p><p><br /></p><p>We often forget that these people are not here for our benefit but are just going about their lives.</p><p><br /></p><p>Lesson learned.<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><p></p>JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-26193437200805949952020-12-27T10:17:00.005-06:002020-12-27T10:17:52.455-06:00Sepia Saturday for Holiday week.<p> <a href="https://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/">Sepia Saturday for this holiday season.</a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCygifIgYhtRdu0MvOW72b6_8jVk8re_EfCE3Tv4DNHXrhWm0WC36IQF6GHPDPbBedwTHg8RUdS9xRgnEaYIKfp9b2DlgcZ8W1j92QSQvGjWh-bHnDvxjNF2teKelNvmBhIWVVqTmkruU4/s640/3C3ACC10-FCE1-4144-BD69-204CBF4C14B3.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCygifIgYhtRdu0MvOW72b6_8jVk8re_EfCE3Tv4DNHXrhWm0WC36IQF6GHPDPbBedwTHg8RUdS9xRgnEaYIKfp9b2DlgcZ8W1j92QSQvGjWh-bHnDvxjNF2teKelNvmBhIWVVqTmkruU4/w428-h428/3C3ACC10-FCE1-4144-BD69-204CBF4C14B3.jpeg" width="428" /></a></div>I am sure this image was from some parade of sorts, but the first thing that came to mind when I saw it was the photo I have below.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>That is my truck in the photo.<br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPfbaVUbnmeu4Oe66h0CcTcnaQ5RjJOc7sou5-Z1lK_tPQWD_X_OysPWugung7Pw4GCKcAFO6yDthhpcOZaVDYddO2ehJs8S-G-YiMXvS908w9JMYFy__1auZTrmR4poEth1JMXVDz3PZW/s1086/6E5A7514-C8E7-4A0C-BC4C-EA11FC3C2AFA_1_105_c+2.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="724" data-original-width="1086" height="323" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPfbaVUbnmeu4Oe66h0CcTcnaQ5RjJOc7sou5-Z1lK_tPQWD_X_OysPWugung7Pw4GCKcAFO6yDthhpcOZaVDYddO2ehJs8S-G-YiMXvS908w9JMYFy__1auZTrmR4poEth1JMXVDz3PZW/w486-h323/6E5A7514-C8E7-4A0C-BC4C-EA11FC3C2AFA_1_105_c+2.jpeg" width="486" /></a></div>Taken in the mid to late 80's,1980's.</div><div><br /></div><div>You can see, barely to the left in the photo part of a log cabin. This is a log cabin I built on my log cabin mentors property, which really doesn't not pertain to this story but adds some context.</div><div><br /></div><div>My mentor had a nephew who was a very good chef and had a very highly regarded catering business.</div><div>This nephew asked my mentor if he could provide a Christmas tree for one of his clients. My mentor being in his 80's and me being in my 20's asked/volunteered me to find and retrieve this tree.</div><div>That is where the log cabin comes in. I found this tree on my mentors property where I had built him a small log cabin (which I could use any time).</div><div>So shortly before Christmas I drove out to this property, just me and my dogs, and found this tree.</div><div>Luckily it was not to far from the drive past the cabin and I was able to drag it out, rapped in a large canvas drop cloth, to the drive.</div><div><br /></div><div>But how was one person suppose to get this large tree on to ones truck?</div><div>Has you can see in the photo the tree is longer, front and back, than the truck, a full sized Ford pick-up.</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, being a Boy Scout, and use to working alone, after several cups of tea I came up with a solution.</div><div>I throw two ropes over a very large limb of a very large tree. </div><div>One rope would be to haul the tree up, while the other would be used to hold the tree in place while I did this maneuver a couple of time; driving the truck forward, rising the tree, tying it off, backing the truck up and repeating again. </div><div><br /></div><div>Once I had the tree high enough to back the truck under I did the final securing to the big tree then back under the tree.</div><div>I was then able to slowly lower the tree onto my truck and secure it.</div><div><br /></div><div>I then had to drive the tree about 30 miles to the clients house.</div><div><br /></div><div>This house was owned by a very important lawyer in St Louis.</div><div>His house was in one of those gated communities. Separated entrances for the 'staff' if you know what I mean.</div><div><br /></div><div>There that day was the house boy to help me with the tree.</div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually we wrestled the tree into the mansion, not to go near the fireplace or family room, but in the entrance foyer of the place. With two staircases, one going up each side of the fireplace. My whole house at the time was not twenty feet high, yet this twenty foot plus tree fit inside the entrance way!</div><div><br /></div><div>Once done, always being a little bold I asked the boy, since the lord and master wasn't home, if he could show me around a little. He did, a little. No private rooms.</div><div><br /></div><div>I remember thinking when I saw the dining room that you could either A; play tennis in this room or B; fit four mobile homes in there, two on top of two.</div><div><br /></div><div>This visit gave the goal of trying to be wealthy which after 45 years I have still not obtained.</div>JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-4236996764435243222020-08-14T19:06:00.002-05:002020-08-14T19:06:16.789-05:00Sepia Saturday for this week. Shipping out.<p> <a href="https://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/">Sepia Sat. </a></p><p><br /></p><p>I have always had a love of the big old cruise ships, having come to America on one in 1956,</p><p>So this weeks prompt was perfect, but not for me. But for my extended family.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVh7uz67ZuH307xetpcZqGhnpZt262pXuYgP4l6Vu7av0rZXA0TQOIgca3acGOdfb87YAjADmoSbjqYkKqMyWlzdCr1WwOvuJv697wbua2tSITayWTN45hw0v8Ds26zE78FSvTYESAXg6L/w410-h410/mauretania.JPG" width="410" /></div><div style="text-align: left;">My family came over on the Queen Elizabeth.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This prompt is for the Mauretania.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Which was with the same line as both Queens.</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4g1EvPX1qnpekPqeOWjXEel6bJjpACU49CkC90miEVuctC1FUfsXWwsuer9SkfZCDkG4vJFKaeW_GIInhZIPtkwp0Zh5JXUXV5YIvxAJgzHv_OH3kxxGebrikGKrUYaMzNCXd4Fm6S4cg/s732/April+30+scan+B+007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="712" data-original-width="732" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4g1EvPX1qnpekPqeOWjXEel6bJjpACU49CkC90miEVuctC1FUfsXWwsuer9SkfZCDkG4vJFKaeW_GIInhZIPtkwp0Zh5JXUXV5YIvxAJgzHv_OH3kxxGebrikGKrUYaMzNCXd4Fm6S4cg/w512-h498/April+30+scan+B+007.jpg" width="512" /></a></div>Sort of being the family archivist and historian, which I love, I have tried to gather as many of the old family photos from as many family members as I can.<p></p><p>This one came from the aunt that was responsible for us coming to America in the first place.</p><p>But since my aunt had died by the time I got it and my cousins weren't sure what it meant I had to start digging.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>This below boarding list is from 1952 going from New York to Southhampton. My aunt is not listed, but my uncle and two sons are, about half way down, Moeller. I don't know if they were coming over to visit after my aunt had already headed over earlier or she was coming later. My cousins did not remember this.</p><p>So after a little research I was able to put a reason to their photos.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0YJhHIckr_bcwp3FISC6KP_xcvrvXDsDJKsSb71ytYKtFA5Y2AaE_t0a-xvdffYsoZ0F93qK5zeND3HO4ekV8B4M9y0CwjRMrmPwn_tNQd09AyJsoIV0RdZGIf7F47MxZPwM1CMBQq2X9/s1974/84862643_10216847310963648_9108127674777206784_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1974" data-original-width="1316" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0YJhHIckr_bcwp3FISC6KP_xcvrvXDsDJKsSb71ytYKtFA5Y2AaE_t0a-xvdffYsoZ0F93qK5zeND3HO4ekV8B4M9y0CwjRMrmPwn_tNQd09AyJsoIV0RdZGIf7F47MxZPwM1CMBQq2X9/s640/84862643_10216847310963648_9108127674777206784_o.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigIud31117iS5y8IfrhpkHF90yvFWc-hxyTfx5SXd13x0jpWll9t3z-K16jQ7N8ZJCZs9BXzc1Idkwg_F_boaEaaCyX-UnjQDiCrl67rpHnl1udwgXu3TR2pCPTgXpCqj5xkijaqfTUWAz/s1000/84804836_10216847289003099_6739729416085045248_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="645" data-original-width="1000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigIud31117iS5y8IfrhpkHF90yvFWc-hxyTfx5SXd13x0jpWll9t3z-K16jQ7N8ZJCZs9BXzc1Idkwg_F_boaEaaCyX-UnjQDiCrl67rpHnl1udwgXu3TR2pCPTgXpCqj5xkijaqfTUWAz/s640/84804836_10216847289003099_6739729416085045248_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-54122956601734525392020-08-03T13:55:00.000-05:002020-08-03T13:55:10.081-05:00Sepia Saturday for this week - Bridges or trollies.<a href="https://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/">Sepia Saturday for this week.</a><div><br /></div><div>Here is the prompt.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPuhMaVM0KU0JrnHqVrR4Rw2MS3dS6zfFFgkcoY9NnBk7m0jBENjAyAWxzFU0KQh1kdoM_MeI6JoqwTgEJcIUicr1_Q0EgWMX9FmB7id5vtZbQh4A-o2364ZL-XnBdiL8FftqBC4BkjUnY/s1000/20.07.364.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPuhMaVM0KU0JrnHqVrR4Rw2MS3dS6zfFFgkcoY9NnBk7m0jBENjAyAWxzFU0KQh1kdoM_MeI6JoqwTgEJcIUicr1_Q0EgWMX9FmB7id5vtZbQh4A-o2364ZL-XnBdiL8FftqBC4BkjUnY/w410-h410/20.07.364.jpg" width="410" /></a></div><div>I took from this photo a memory that I barely have from being a kid.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcJTSbSybWwfZpHstsDzm1CutgfSYNJvgwddRDwwEH9MLC8f8q4WHHc8tiBU2Gq7x9K5CvOEjX8zjT7Xwwepu2hP-D7B206LeBoCv4n3TciOs3Vg9gQ3gUJfVEWo2e0m_CO8N0ZC8ViLwn/s1044/img_52853.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="666" data-original-width="1044" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcJTSbSybWwfZpHstsDzm1CutgfSYNJvgwddRDwwEH9MLC8f8q4WHHc8tiBU2Gq7x9K5CvOEjX8zjT7Xwwepu2hP-D7B206LeBoCv4n3TciOs3Vg9gQ3gUJfVEWo2e0m_CO8N0ZC8ViLwn/w410-h261/img_52853.jpg" width="410" /></a></div><div>When I was growing up, we use to travel to St Louis so my dad could play in Cricket matches in Forest Park in downtown St Louis.</div><div><br /></div><div>We would often pass these red trollies on our way there or on our way home.</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't think we ever road one.</div><div>They ended in 1966.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUi0vPDvNsHIOD3cmEiSiqwZEAFmgSfd4Bu5cvBHkENEznVeEq55nkoPv61Qcewnv7I_n2HqJHiMI28LtvUU5Psg2xlThtyqT1p8xh4p6-50gJhk-Du6nV88ymTNCWJN2oCXW4t1Q5KXyP/s960/1922077_664647986915431_624953400_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="595" data-original-width="960" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUi0vPDvNsHIOD3cmEiSiqwZEAFmgSfd4Bu5cvBHkENEznVeEq55nkoPv61Qcewnv7I_n2HqJHiMI28LtvUU5Psg2xlThtyqT1p8xh4p6-50gJhk-Du6nV88ymTNCWJN2oCXW4t1Q5KXyP/w512-h318/1922077_664647986915431_624953400_n.jpg" width="512" /></a></div>But in our hometown of St Charles, just across the river from St Louis a trolley would run from across the river to this building.<div><br /></div><div>It still stands today.</div><div>You can see the bridge in the back ground. Made for cars and trollies.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqmWZXdQ-dsrKG78jlmpbgLO1CtLT13KAE3svfO9pCZ7JlJLccLCuz8Y9f5T0_lliXP_TFlBxbKuL7j4cllBL9DCMGJqDSyQrvqQMhJkQVMZd-PyieghfUyHZV_MfRIzjozzun9EEwdvsQ/s450/53720690_2143720419004407_2663879905439121408_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="248" data-original-width="450" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqmWZXdQ-dsrKG78jlmpbgLO1CtLT13KAE3svfO9pCZ7JlJLccLCuz8Y9f5T0_lliXP_TFlBxbKuL7j4cllBL9DCMGJqDSyQrvqQMhJkQVMZd-PyieghfUyHZV_MfRIzjozzun9EEwdvsQ/w360-h198/53720690_2143720419004407_2663879905439121408_n.jpg" width="360" /></a></div>Here is one very large trolley at the St Charles terminal.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGLTxxKLNL4CnghNgcs7hvqumxJAzha-eeUh10XJjyCfccCOSzBDGklOHFLN_Zb1WkgDerXjRCJY385KRGCeMsguRcYIf4zIyCV5_O9NLYJUuOjcOLtSvtXQWPuMFRVq7Bu3HsAgIz8vfr/s1346/74913826_2453700221570414_7236902718462230528_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1062" data-original-width="1346" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGLTxxKLNL4CnghNgcs7hvqumxJAzha-eeUh10XJjyCfccCOSzBDGklOHFLN_Zb1WkgDerXjRCJY385KRGCeMsguRcYIf4zIyCV5_O9NLYJUuOjcOLtSvtXQWPuMFRVq7Bu3HsAgIz8vfr/w512-h404/74913826_2453700221570414_7236902718462230528_o.jpg" width="512" /></a></div><div>Here is the bridge being built. Trollies on one side. Cars on the other. </div></div><div>I guess you would either have to stay behind the trolley till it got across the bridge or pass it. But the bridge was very narrow.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikSdBYa0wKUGPjavI5PNaaah_C-gQ9b1bXAXCZhq-lftZrD3wtGAHAbaH6vft_t1DPBumORligk8eF3zCfBC__-4DLtFFqAIQRo1XcNetcFPb-wyQWSGZnF_5PFsZqlKCKSPowFmbg5vlz/s904/1234797_619385121435339_2126592804_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="647" data-original-width="904" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikSdBYa0wKUGPjavI5PNaaah_C-gQ9b1bXAXCZhq-lftZrD3wtGAHAbaH6vft_t1DPBumORligk8eF3zCfBC__-4DLtFFqAIQRo1XcNetcFPb-wyQWSGZnF_5PFsZqlKCKSPowFmbg5vlz/w512-h366/1234797_619385121435339_2126592804_n.jpg" width="512" /></a></div><div>Here is how the bridge looked while I was growing up. At one time the only way into St Louis from St Charles.</div><div>The trolley tracks were gone. Cars going both ways. </div><div>The lady in the lower left corner is leaning up against the old terminal.</div><div><br /></div><div>There was a walk way on the right side of the bridge which you could get to from down on Main St. where most of the shopping was done till just after this photo was taken.</div><div>The bridge lasted till the mid 1980's</div>JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-63879106122038257642020-07-24T13:03:00.000-05:002020-07-24T13:03:10.918-05:00Sepia Saturday for this week - easy rider.<a href="https://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/">Sepia Saturday for this week.</a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi-jRPxWaT4UU6ztu8j8M-JABZgzRBgmsjkp1roNMlW1RvuTUi8vQmOWZGaC_jCdT2gZQd7e4Ngwzw_Jt6BFurSEeCjXovsGS3jQJNF3uWjO7kj8uUi0Ib5Od_s-uCPSUuoGCh1JNlLR-d/s1600/20.07.108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi-jRPxWaT4UU6ztu8j8M-JABZgzRBgmsjkp1roNMlW1RvuTUi8vQmOWZGaC_jCdT2gZQd7e4Ngwzw_Jt6BFurSEeCjXovsGS3jQJNF3uWjO7kj8uUi0Ib5Od_s-uCPSUuoGCh1JNlLR-d/s400/20.07.108.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM3VPZaNP7mvZmF0VklaqwNaugcqkirXLj6vDfUk2RZCZP_W9LLi_g1CG_zE7vXy-2ukkCNR7Yczry9iOxcIx19_Fkfft9It31bp-EVfT16BVHqCmyFZfOv4NPNis4jzNb4kAPqw5nvA0-/s1600/raleigh_watsonian5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM3VPZaNP7mvZmF0VklaqwNaugcqkirXLj6vDfUk2RZCZP_W9LLi_g1CG_zE7vXy-2ukkCNR7Yczry9iOxcIx19_Fkfft9It31bp-EVfT16BVHqCmyFZfOv4NPNis4jzNb4kAPqw5nvA0-/s400/raleigh_watsonian5.jpg" width="400" /></a>I can only think of one family story to go with this prompt. . . .<br />
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My mom and dad met during WW2. He was in the RAF, she worked at a canteen for servicemen across from a cinema the men would go to on their time off.<br />
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After a few visits I would imagine my dad asked if mom would go out walking with him.<br />
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That's probably all it was for a while. Taking a bus from the base to the canteen.<br />
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Once they started dating he said he use to pick her up with a bike that had a sidecar and a little motor.<br />
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I imagine it looked somewhat like this photo. I don't think it was to far to the base near Selby.<br />
It is one thing we don't have pictures off, that little bike and sidecar.<br />
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The only family photo I have of motorbikes and my family is this one of my Uncle Leslie.<br />
I never really got to know him, moving to America when I was 1 1/2.<br />
Look like he is really proud of that bike.<br />
Apparently he also owned a car, but no drivers license. I think my dad got to drive the car a bit once he married my mom.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU_Y6hvsVsb10p33V0T37Da0bXo8rAN0LoJBLfribjy1rgXeJp_Bgyw1HXFPP8qF34DshcEWPsmy4sCpvPEQV0t4X5fFdpI8Wr4PntdAOCTUni8aTlqrXP2scm2qiH2nptFaJN0bFOxoMn/s1600/Leslie+Cryer+on+his+bike..jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="940" data-original-width="644" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU_Y6hvsVsb10p33V0T37Da0bXo8rAN0LoJBLfribjy1rgXeJp_Bgyw1HXFPP8qF34DshcEWPsmy4sCpvPEQV0t4X5fFdpI8Wr4PntdAOCTUni8aTlqrXP2scm2qiH2nptFaJN0bFOxoMn/s400/Leslie+Cryer+on+his+bike..jpeg" width="273" /></a></div>
JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-36665044811415907142020-07-18T12:39:00.001-05:002020-07-18T12:39:13.993-05:00Sepia Saturday for this week - Diving Right in.<a href="https://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2020/07/sepia-saturday-529-18th-july-2020.html">Sepia Saturday post for this week.</a><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7VZnlAQhfCjSAopjoPDKtG-X7xsr5cAGSZ8uEdYAsFAMsQ0BqIWHg24On5cpydQ3jkldUdE-rzeIsdZRtXN8Rz0OZ19M-fS4VajFCnZZr-tG03bd05y3Iz2H8qfTwPgGncwzsYlckLM1_/s640/20.07.014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7VZnlAQhfCjSAopjoPDKtG-X7xsr5cAGSZ8uEdYAsFAMsQ0BqIWHg24On5cpydQ3jkldUdE-rzeIsdZRtXN8Rz0OZ19M-fS4VajFCnZZr-tG03bd05y3Iz2H8qfTwPgGncwzsYlckLM1_/s320/20.07.014.jpg" /></a></div><div>We spent a lot of time in the late 50's early 60's diving right in.</div><div><br /></div><div>It usually took place at the Lake of the Ozarks in Missouri at a place called. . . .</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Bonds cabins. We just called the place the cabins at Grand Glaze.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCKbr5gFjmTHEbxPxatlm4vFxO2sPoCQchsq5i9VjOQzoPkUQTRDKgvYvwykgNon-LWHKtfpnO6HcFqA3Hxgh0x5XsdXtuh4KMTT1jRn_pEUKR2Jg4BObLSqSR9m96lMmKGtUjEjvip2I9/s250/card00763_fr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="159" data-original-width="250" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCKbr5gFjmTHEbxPxatlm4vFxO2sPoCQchsq5i9VjOQzoPkUQTRDKgvYvwykgNon-LWHKtfpnO6HcFqA3Hxgh0x5XsdXtuh4KMTT1jRn_pEUKR2Jg4BObLSqSR9m96lMmKGtUjEjvip2I9/w391-h249/card00763_fr.jpg" width="391" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>One week there every year for many years.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtOHWVlYr4DiY_Qvhy4DD_DJvp_3Gx6RK-r4Ls8pk0GZ_WJWWJb8uPzfODiN5C9-snHu-qogJvbupGrKr3iYLmxAPCXSwZxs61j4y-glXNj6beAm1si4tJp4yE-D1Elk3mq0cufMVFNcfE/s891/Colin+and+Barbara+Lake+of+the+Ozarks+1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="891" data-original-width="882" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtOHWVlYr4DiY_Qvhy4DD_DJvp_3Gx6RK-r4Ls8pk0GZ_WJWWJb8uPzfODiN5C9-snHu-qogJvbupGrKr3iYLmxAPCXSwZxs61j4y-glXNj6beAm1si4tJp4yE-D1Elk3mq0cufMVFNcfE/s320/Colin+and+Barbara+Lake+of+the+Ozarks+1.jpeg" /></a></div>My brother and cousin diving right in.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkRDDQr1z0ZaKmSZz9ABaDxpWeZ2yruijDHCjjHAYDTeIz9jyIB8DxLx5nV5oV1GVzQtxFIZYIWetj1opFDklRiwUWrxbXxZeko4qqINSWJFuB35aXpyQc7N35OUd_BS85LN7pIU1M0N1T/s916/Colin+and+Barbara+Lake+of+the+Ozarks.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="916" data-original-width="885" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkRDDQr1z0ZaKmSZz9ABaDxpWeZ2yruijDHCjjHAYDTeIz9jyIB8DxLx5nV5oV1GVzQtxFIZYIWetj1opFDklRiwUWrxbXxZeko4qqINSWJFuB35aXpyQc7N35OUd_BS85LN7pIU1M0N1T/s320/Colin+and+Barbara+Lake+of+the+Ozarks.jpeg" /></a></div>And jumping right in.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh06VMB5ORPt3x5J4QgNoqReHyL-qTWom28qIbCmcbVaCZPA654nHZ0WnGtEk5SmhNS45oigaPicW1shfuqVcl9IhPceEzONIWBsY14uejKYjf9OflGCf1xb2sSJrH1eMijueGNy1W5QJ_T/s904/Colin+and+John+1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="904" data-original-width="904" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh06VMB5ORPt3x5J4QgNoqReHyL-qTWom28qIbCmcbVaCZPA654nHZ0WnGtEk5SmhNS45oigaPicW1shfuqVcl9IhPceEzONIWBsY14uejKYjf9OflGCf1xb2sSJrH1eMijueGNy1W5QJ_T/s320/Colin+and+John+1.jpeg" /></a></div>Brother and I getting ready to jump right in.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWhHs5NuL0dfN6rMtvPlhsz47z-VMG5sPKIBa7MnfjOelDpXCFC5W4cAZ7Xbva89ZnMPH3fniba5myuthQU7tG5rw8EjkgmXFZjV09ezGtceqMn1k0Rg-bXgmci9SR-Y-D-fgdIyb5qjQW/s907/Colin+and+Moeller+brothers.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="891" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWhHs5NuL0dfN6rMtvPlhsz47z-VMG5sPKIBa7MnfjOelDpXCFC5W4cAZ7Xbva89ZnMPH3fniba5myuthQU7tG5rw8EjkgmXFZjV09ezGtceqMn1k0Rg-bXgmci9SR-Y-D-fgdIyb5qjQW/s320/Colin+and+Moeller+brothers.jpeg" /></a></div>Brother and two other cousins after the jump.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpG1MD_0zwnXddxQya9wpXFOQQAyIbUeQdRzl77DLBzss_CA3qS0zgqeCt9SzTFpYBI2LOuNliNvwZaEX3wPIv6mF5QhJwJd6__QSKehbFpt3U1h2W272wVXeLQEEi_U0-2oaZGIzh7ixq/s978/Colin%252C+John+and+Margaret+Grand+Glaze.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="966" data-original-width="978" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpG1MD_0zwnXddxQya9wpXFOQQAyIbUeQdRzl77DLBzss_CA3qS0zgqeCt9SzTFpYBI2LOuNliNvwZaEX3wPIv6mF5QhJwJd6__QSKehbFpt3U1h2W272wVXeLQEEi_U0-2oaZGIzh7ixq/s320/Colin%252C+John+and+Margaret+Grand+Glaze.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>Break between dives.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio50Jst-iwCII0hWKTSX-76viZXiqHU5rmXxWyMzPU2tqJ1zOzClngf2V_4d_87gshLTlgWoCXyqX63XN0JgGTvnEb9PzVeNTPci9Mq6_SV1RayeU43aYVZ6kZVqvlvSY-6Nfyw6gHKZPi/s907/john+And+colin.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="879" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio50Jst-iwCII0hWKTSX-76viZXiqHU5rmXxWyMzPU2tqJ1zOzClngf2V_4d_87gshLTlgWoCXyqX63XN0JgGTvnEb9PzVeNTPci9Mq6_SV1RayeU43aYVZ6kZVqvlvSY-6Nfyw6gHKZPi/s320/john+And+colin.jpeg" /></a></div><div>Me getting ready to jump right in.</div>JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-25705747308217640622020-05-16T13:59:00.000-05:002020-05-16T13:59:03.894-05:00We just don't sit still that long.<img height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7EdKKajElW6AW6o1onLE0Csk5udIJUshztwkhY8HRzCwe1WA0lwqiQFf9Rlb2IZiBQpnIPe6oPSTUpaeWncMVXHcaGNG_JZXI-eM409gfTZFdJLVb9_-LycXQBIIdgrPduoEjDS9L2fDU/s320/2004311.jpg" width="320" /><br />
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<a href="https://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/">Sepia Saturday clue for this week.</a><br />
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We don't have a whole lot of table sitting pictures in my family. At least from our early days. I hope it is not because we weren't that pleasant to watch once we started eating.<br />
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This one and the next are at a local state park. I think I am asleep in the car.<br />
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One shortly after we got to America. I think I still have the table.<br />
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Mom and her sister sitting at a table at a local beach.<br />
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We have one of dad (left) standing at a table after getting his helicopter engine certificate.<br />
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Car sitting seemed more popular with us.<br />
Usually at the airport watching planes go by.<br />
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Or at rest stops making sure everyone got back to the car.<br />
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We did sit on the stairs a lot. . . .<br />
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and on the ground, usually at cricket matches.<br />
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By the look at my age in this one, this my have been our first fried chicken dinner in the New World.<br />
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Here with cousins.<br />
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We have since made up for by having a family/non-family gathering every Thanksgiving out at the cabin.JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-4111209644168637052020-04-18T08:17:00.000-05:002020-04-18T08:17:04.135-05:00All gathered. . . .<a href="https://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/">Sepia Saturday for this week.</a><br />
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My family doesn't gather a great deal. When we do, it is usually a special occasion, reunion or group photos for some youth activity like scouts or baseball.<br />
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Family get together dads family.<br />
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Mom and dads wedding 1946.<br />
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Cousins wedding London<br />
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Aunts wedding London<br />
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Cadets St John's Amb. Brigade, Selby UK<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4gQ1jVgSKyohD7tg8ejrMHmibEWrgQLDXTJTEry2LBof7Y0gIfMkLntxh_vrP229xiGFGEXxc6l2B46FPy2IWJUM4Z3yapsuAtDGXWXxZanw9KW3nC0VqEGEWnWXEnGUSYICkdcA_AWkS/s1600/Leslie+Foster+St+John+Amb.+Brig..jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="972" data-original-width="1572" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4gQ1jVgSKyohD7tg8ejrMHmibEWrgQLDXTJTEry2LBof7Y0gIfMkLntxh_vrP229xiGFGEXxc6l2B46FPy2IWJUM4Z3yapsuAtDGXWXxZanw9KW3nC0VqEGEWnWXEnGUSYICkdcA_AWkS/s400/Leslie+Foster+St+John+Amb.+Brig..jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEaWPGkoIvjS2AsExMG4mH6e7l6im9LglV5zCBh3H3RP2unCeIj-XTyxd3MfFNNnX_RMDi35miWmFKMWzH-hR1C4HDMQCYTRpRu7WOdsNWr6H91Qs__ZfNE5Bdp1vEDNtbJ0Ha44Ml34b0/s1600/Leslie+RAF+2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1557" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEaWPGkoIvjS2AsExMG4mH6e7l6im9LglV5zCBh3H3RP2unCeIj-XTyxd3MfFNNnX_RMDi35miWmFKMWzH-hR1C4HDMQCYTRpRu7WOdsNWr6H91Qs__ZfNE5Bdp1vEDNtbJ0Ha44Ml34b0/s400/Leslie+RAF+2.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
Dad in the RAF WW2<br />
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Dad front row right with hat, on some school trip.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsSEKmh4u0yWwWWCJu_dOOgcE6F33KRvF25b_pHLcOBzMJgqYW048sZUPogyWslSYYWmHeg_hx9bzSAtz38-Hnm_KX4BbrON86ORfJym9oI9Isr4R4g4u_gsjrp9ID3GlKLXQRlc445fYV/s1600/Beach+unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1408" data-original-width="1496" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsSEKmh4u0yWwWWCJu_dOOgcE6F33KRvF25b_pHLcOBzMJgqYW048sZUPogyWslSYYWmHeg_hx9bzSAtz38-Hnm_KX4BbrON86ORfJym9oI9Isr4R4g4u_gsjrp9ID3GlKLXQRlc445fYV/s400/Beach+unknown.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
Beach photo with mostly unknown, although I do see my mom.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjubZy51Cnqr5moXnpPpgOYLzfkdKkQ7CgNU_MeHxlI0ZkP3xMsUjFbICwoPLc_SgXJm4-FXwXhwibtaT2X5XootJxqBxon-fA-h4Wc2gQROiaDcR5RUEHdbuQgmIjxc_X0nstl89NvNvtC/s1600/Enids+wedding.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1045" data-original-width="1416" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjubZy51Cnqr5moXnpPpgOYLzfkdKkQ7CgNU_MeHxlI0ZkP3xMsUjFbICwoPLc_SgXJm4-FXwXhwibtaT2X5XootJxqBxon-fA-h4Wc2gQROiaDcR5RUEHdbuQgmIjxc_X0nstl89NvNvtC/s400/Enids+wedding.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
Aunts wedding Selby.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Logc_sm-6zZGavJShxvMDf82A0rtNsMDZ1Vcw_8Ymgqh19W0R_jf6UprqZvMwtwF0XIO9vpQ1eoUnSPa1W8FU6bUWBSwbR0UrELwTXkZeGZ-Te6Ce59DJd-FA6y0mAmPYsEXjBuWedKV/s1600/Geoffs+parents%252C+Geoff%252C+Margaret%252C+Marion+and+Harold+H..jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1119" data-original-width="1600" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Logc_sm-6zZGavJShxvMDf82A0rtNsMDZ1Vcw_8Ymgqh19W0R_jf6UprqZvMwtwF0XIO9vpQ1eoUnSPa1W8FU6bUWBSwbR0UrELwTXkZeGZ-Te6Ce59DJd-FA6y0mAmPYsEXjBuWedKV/s400/Geoffs+parents%252C+Geoff%252C+Margaret%252C+Marion+and+Harold+H..jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
Cousins wedding.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-7sGSDY7MhQeinfPoAPRbguyRgOLgLi2ZE7w5K58zgvtXr6WiP4bPP1eSVGQp92_tPwFch03JYwEf1Jy0pHmbkn-8FlDI1J5mGjLaLxRHxi0-VIGI746WAl1qI09R3Q6KlxUNcsJA7rN/s1600/Joan%252C+Betty%252C+Jean%252C+Enid%252C+unknown+boy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="988" data-original-width="644" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-7sGSDY7MhQeinfPoAPRbguyRgOLgLi2ZE7w5K58zgvtXr6WiP4bPP1eSVGQp92_tPwFch03JYwEf1Jy0pHmbkn-8FlDI1J5mGjLaLxRHxi0-VIGI746WAl1qI09R3Q6KlxUNcsJA7rN/s400/Joan%252C+Betty%252C+Jean%252C+Enid%252C+unknown+boy.jpeg" width="260" /></a></div>
Sisters and an unknown lad.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyCRPJ_MbiSkYda8I5ZD02hPTqmbCfD58JTYmN8x3qjy2kmlsso6IuQs2Ceacm1zIAuJo5phEIHg-cRGjXgwwI5sY3hjYenTQglB0trooCU6uQmfw3Jm2Pr437bKgVb5DcPI9DUDdC7e8Y/s1600/Leslie+Foster+right+in+the+middle.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1016" data-original-width="1600" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyCRPJ_MbiSkYda8I5ZD02hPTqmbCfD58JTYmN8x3qjy2kmlsso6IuQs2Ceacm1zIAuJo5phEIHg-cRGjXgwwI5sY3hjYenTQglB0trooCU6uQmfw3Jm2Pr437bKgVb5DcPI9DUDdC7e8Y/s400/Leslie+Foster+right+in+the+middle.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
Dad, right in the middle with unknown friends.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGBGFYY_9OjofB_YcX8ygoBBV8X8sa_4QgoLfjTaDihix1ldbbyyQuhqoSdqyO94SZR07Hz9If4q5ob64Ef2yW_sBMmNBhB1aaltQcYo96zG6oCTwItEfO3YiYw23k5iOx6ELPiPDBzR8_/s1600/Leslie%252C+Colin%252C+Margaret+and+Derek+Aug+1953.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="669" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGBGFYY_9OjofB_YcX8ygoBBV8X8sa_4QgoLfjTaDihix1ldbbyyQuhqoSdqyO94SZR07Hz9If4q5ob64Ef2yW_sBMmNBhB1aaltQcYo96zG6oCTwItEfO3YiYw23k5iOx6ELPiPDBzR8_/s400/Leslie%252C+Colin%252C+Margaret+and+Derek+Aug+1953.jpeg" width="390" /></a></div>
Mom, dad, uncle and brother, Selby.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW7LGCB2aeMcyX2Mk-GiHd6KVQoy-BTDCFn-aZkS6qtZ2UDSUVDP8DYDxEgwAIqdQps_otxS1n8jc7RjolnOzBTVVxFQCDqhCFUYrcV4IiBjzqkR4-kZse0IrI3aYAw7JKUrkFwpOvh8gU/s1600/Looks+like+Margaret+and+Enid+on+the+left%252C+Other+two+unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="964" data-original-width="655" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW7LGCB2aeMcyX2Mk-GiHd6KVQoy-BTDCFn-aZkS6qtZ2UDSUVDP8DYDxEgwAIqdQps_otxS1n8jc7RjolnOzBTVVxFQCDqhCFUYrcV4IiBjzqkR4-kZse0IrI3aYAw7JKUrkFwpOvh8gU/s400/Looks+like+Margaret+and+Enid+on+the+left%252C+Other+two+unknown.jpeg" width="271" /></a></div>
Two sisters on the right, other two unknown.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyhAvZWokOOE9aZNkSmmbskkgQ0qUWuQ6YV-CHTfYbP8ZEHuidKd2lVlkMx3LH2YsPElcCwNsnMHXPexY_n0xFE1FTWA4fZQVLQHAwR7S0sT_pVgGqxm6P5DjhdCEx0YKhmc39QsN2yvc7/s1600/Margaret+F%252C+standing+center.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="622" data-original-width="658" height="377" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyhAvZWokOOE9aZNkSmmbskkgQ0qUWuQ6YV-CHTfYbP8ZEHuidKd2lVlkMx3LH2YsPElcCwNsnMHXPexY_n0xFE1FTWA4fZQVLQHAwR7S0sT_pVgGqxm6P5DjhdCEx0YKhmc39QsN2yvc7/s400/Margaret+F%252C+standing+center.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
Mom in the middle<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ujetnDLuNMpfT947tkH1eUHiMlyVKMJH6xXC8iDDteBC8ugm9Tn0w15TLdx68ff_AnsX2GXDl6M2PH-A6gtIGZdIQjOybga5X1POkbQ0u3ItuNFj5x_1iV_ctaTY92UShGelpzbV9cT-/s1600/Margaret+H%252C+Betty%252C+Margaret+and+Sheila.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1088" data-original-width="1564" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ujetnDLuNMpfT947tkH1eUHiMlyVKMJH6xXC8iDDteBC8ugm9Tn0w15TLdx68ff_AnsX2GXDl6M2PH-A6gtIGZdIQjOybga5X1POkbQ0u3ItuNFj5x_1iV_ctaTY92UShGelpzbV9cT-/s400/Margaret+H%252C+Betty%252C+Margaret+and+Sheila.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
One mom, one aunt, two cousins.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhutz-5gsZxNlfLDAGbZgztR4r8PRmfiO0NIdRYelqk5GMkFiqlGTJmN-F5mdtsLu0F0c5yVv0ymdTNMxlJtJugI8u2PmuLs7la6WbxbDygFzFauXYkhGhKXiyfg0m0RqeL5bkfrJoBNefn/s1600/One+of+Leslie%2527s+co-worker+wedding+at+St+John+AB.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="636" data-original-width="944" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhutz-5gsZxNlfLDAGbZgztR4r8PRmfiO0NIdRYelqk5GMkFiqlGTJmN-F5mdtsLu0F0c5yVv0ymdTNMxlJtJugI8u2PmuLs7la6WbxbDygFzFauXYkhGhKXiyfg0m0RqeL5bkfrJoBNefn/s400/One+of+Leslie%2527s+co-worker+wedding+at+St+John+AB.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
Fellow St. John's workers wedding.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcLzAATmKAJJwp1WiITN4WhSYdnoJDPuH7vFNPNAcz0jaIZnJ8w9B35PZODReVKrQPzg1Y5IbzsJtngly9ZK9dOKARTce7oqT46YppgMJcvBqHgQQ0-6gnncfgTdL2VB8zVB-JkIhccHZm/s1600/Probably+Michael+Harrisons+team+1960.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="987" data-original-width="1376" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcLzAATmKAJJwp1WiITN4WhSYdnoJDPuH7vFNPNAcz0jaIZnJ8w9B35PZODReVKrQPzg1Y5IbzsJtngly9ZK9dOKARTce7oqT46YppgMJcvBqHgQQ0-6gnncfgTdL2VB8zVB-JkIhccHZm/s400/Probably+Michael+Harrisons+team+1960.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
Cousins football team.<br />
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1970 Yorkshire family reunion.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhT4aWIHD4oKT3v9a-JDlSnx6HlElDyHlnlZ5Ub_FfKzrUAcfyNRcBi2wko2fa8K_Vp_ffnYyJOBgIZEwQG_FzedPkSRpf5c0LTMVka5kBvK2vDdql8BBgEZneyzzUvHtYN9bIV6SAWh7f/s1600/Yorkshire+reunion+1970.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="991" data-original-width="1016" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhT4aWIHD4oKT3v9a-JDlSnx6HlElDyHlnlZ5Ub_FfKzrUAcfyNRcBi2wko2fa8K_Vp_ffnYyJOBgIZEwQG_FzedPkSRpf5c0LTMVka5kBvK2vDdql8BBgEZneyzzUvHtYN9bIV6SAWh7f/s400/Yorkshire+reunion+1970.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Scout Troop 763 around 1969.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZAxEDP-VWE_fstq_D8Mt-qORA3Dh4UMRA8ZPrgnDYHOD6AhsQltRNrMVt24sqE7oTsX88epld3BwDvYpsxwRq0nAxAAG_t5i-ixeqPAJXCgENNgQ_6aOJQkvfQGquA0q4lIaiq-pbGDu/s1600/Troop+763+1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="980" data-original-width="1600" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZAxEDP-VWE_fstq_D8Mt-qORA3Dh4UMRA8ZPrgnDYHOD6AhsQltRNrMVt24sqE7oTsX88epld3BwDvYpsxwRq0nAxAAG_t5i-ixeqPAJXCgENNgQ_6aOJQkvfQGquA0q4lIaiq-pbGDu/s400/Troop+763+1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-29086433576058537182020-03-22T10:26:00.000-05:002020-03-22T10:26:02.107-05:00Sepia Sat for this month<img height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxXMbPTpXKIxb_X7Dpn60RhywRcDOiSzAdPFHJgsptU52D-Q7vQRyo3e1app9H1AdCZxJrWAvk-DTcpLv71Gzaf8vJAQ5GQhqex7Qfb0LAqGX9jlW5cpntlaDpbe315VhRGEPfuFyJ6xMY/s320/2002023z.jpg" width="320" /><a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/"> Sepia Saturday for this week.</a><br />
<br />
Well, there really is only one obvious choice for this and that would be trees. Right?<br />
<br />
Just kidding.<br />
<br />
I guess bikes. I am sure those more creative will come up with something else.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ3CTwiZDKXVyoQE0tgDhSl9fE_LPptaH-KGqldyrREHNuh67SXZFZpaZJm5dEpfq-0aN4OhJ1UIoXn_36b8nab_3q_LEdYXDMvDnlgJBFer7KkKZPAakztUTkKmWhVlP10Nwg_urH6nBF/s1600/Colin+and+John+Circle+Drive.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="895" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ3CTwiZDKXVyoQE0tgDhSl9fE_LPptaH-KGqldyrREHNuh67SXZFZpaZJm5dEpfq-0aN4OhJ1UIoXn_36b8nab_3q_LEdYXDMvDnlgJBFer7KkKZPAakztUTkKmWhVlP10Nwg_urH6nBF/s400/Colin+and+John+Circle+Drive.jpeg" width="393" /></a></div>
But once again this is going to be a tale about, "oh poor me, my brother is once again in more old photos than me."<br />
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You would that some where over time my folks would have learned to use newer cameras and take more photos of me also.<br />
But dad had a habit of waving the camera at us doing things rather than actually using it.<br />
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I made it into this one, and they actually got more of me than my brother!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKkfvNGn-g1PO8bsK5GSfv3VNzhrsncDVixs9z_RP8wqiZkH4DeO4Y-uw4XIo-x6JSiGD15tGk-eCs7ox2j7faMIV-e44zTlURSoJmmB08jLiiLI-C0dNHwbESNBsyjBhxbGlWFkL9spt6/s1600/Colin+and+unknown+Circle+Drive.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="790" data-original-width="891" height="353" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKkfvNGn-g1PO8bsK5GSfv3VNzhrsncDVixs9z_RP8wqiZkH4DeO4Y-uw4XIo-x6JSiGD15tGk-eCs7ox2j7faMIV-e44zTlURSoJmmB08jLiiLI-C0dNHwbESNBsyjBhxbGlWFkL9spt6/s400/Colin+and+unknown+Circle+Drive.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
My brother holding maybe me.<br />
Bet that's not my bike in the back.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkBHEDdzh1py9qcJ7KL0UhuL6P8WtJj1u9gmPdMi8EI9jEhBXQfgPcq3PutZoC5oFC2WDHqpu6V92VIWozeL2tIbPX_csCRQTh1Vv7fxundhoJMJz8lo1Q3pVjC9W-Qgi4BVGDhT-vhp91/s1600/Colin+circle+dr..jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="947" data-original-width="916" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkBHEDdzh1py9qcJ7KL0UhuL6P8WtJj1u9gmPdMi8EI9jEhBXQfgPcq3PutZoC5oFC2WDHqpu6V92VIWozeL2tIbPX_csCRQTh1Vv7fxundhoJMJz8lo1Q3pVjC9W-Qgi4BVGDhT-vhp91/s400/Colin+circle+dr..jpeg" width="386" /></a></div>
Oh, look, My brother and maybe the front of my bike. Maybe.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAi48iX6Jhg-z-JcURsWoPKkiL9Fho9904xGW3-bnATSP0NyLqWDQgc45lrYXSESbap-e7XF_3dRrtbq_IYFWDNjT2Us3ptrcsrcqxFe9fffCJpDGzdvo6cd0zOuZ2c_U2FNMD8j4t87vV/s1600/John%252C+Tomkins+St+St+C.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="950" data-original-width="947" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAi48iX6Jhg-z-JcURsWoPKkiL9Fho9904xGW3-bnATSP0NyLqWDQgc45lrYXSESbap-e7XF_3dRrtbq_IYFWDNjT2Us3ptrcsrcqxFe9fffCJpDGzdvo6cd0zOuZ2c_U2FNMD8j4t87vV/s400/John%252C+Tomkins+St+St+C.jpeg" width="397" /></a></div>
I think this one is me!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKH_vaWRMgQdOdHb53ZNTm-x4vUqL6ew-uqut0KnRhaNNCbqfQjL6CRYvR5BsRWbFMb_Y98zh4ehsmmlEqTUxPL7yLxEIEWN7Ajx5dNkPXc3kIhLv3ri5p_oG2LIq2oqLw7aLg1D-xvFJB/s1600/Margaret+and+John+Tomkins+St..jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="716" data-original-width="651" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKH_vaWRMgQdOdHb53ZNTm-x4vUqL6ew-uqut0KnRhaNNCbqfQjL6CRYvR5BsRWbFMb_Y98zh4ehsmmlEqTUxPL7yLxEIEWN7Ajx5dNkPXc3kIhLv3ri5p_oG2LIq2oqLw7aLg1D-xvFJB/s400/Margaret+and+John+Tomkins+St..jpeg" width="362" /></a></div>
Mom holding me near a bike.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaGQNpD4yrSKjvGG_t2TgUEkvo1tXHDHBld1-2tQPC3bw6DspeYYX_8Ex34n8VUR6xSbWJiUSEtZE2z93BTUbDYlh6YidRPCVnN-j1GQW2ldCsiPuVN4KZcuNSINkp7ynjCaHPIQ2mP8Ug/s1600/Colin+18.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="678" data-original-width="636" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaGQNpD4yrSKjvGG_t2TgUEkvo1tXHDHBld1-2tQPC3bw6DspeYYX_8Ex34n8VUR6xSbWJiUSEtZE2z93BTUbDYlh6YidRPCVnN-j1GQW2ldCsiPuVN4KZcuNSINkp7ynjCaHPIQ2mP8Ug/s400/Colin+18.jpeg" width="375" /></a></div>
My brother in England on his bike.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAB36H2rynV1FipGqUOARdItA7Nx-NRuWoDMnA_YpW8899HxHJGZUytwpg1HXDtWbbGJJUe1G_WeXIxA3yD8a6jluMrbM5YT5jkxOAxnIRt7_QzAjj55UL0CUbgWvCCjtZdo8khoJizC4z/s1600/Colin+in+England+on+trike+from+Leslie+Cryer+and+Grandad+Cryer.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAB36H2rynV1FipGqUOARdItA7Nx-NRuWoDMnA_YpW8899HxHJGZUytwpg1HXDtWbbGJJUe1G_WeXIxA3yD8a6jluMrbM5YT5jkxOAxnIRt7_QzAjj55UL0CUbgWvCCjtZdo8khoJizC4z/s400/Colin+in+England+on+trike+from+Leslie+Cryer+and+Grandad+Cryer.jpeg" width="265" /></a></div>
Same.<br />
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Oh well.JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-67129023005294342562020-03-06T23:28:00.002-06:002020-03-06T23:31:50.345-06:00Sepia Sat. post for this week.<br />
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<img height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsIMcZu8lcHqqH-RbaYTAm2G67sV4oQQCyDEJwwCM-Fs7TAUkOTn0MuFQDYOPWmKJWe8d_0H43ZEGloB8ge6N5figzqcKYgw-CmAff8yMmTo_FHtJ9Bwhx84dw1PTt8lNUzrEdfBj8ODoW/s320/2002021z.jpg" width="320" /></div>
<br />
<a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2020/03/sepia-saturday-510-7-march-2020.html">Sepia sat.</a><br />
<br />
Once again, what do we take as our prompt for this week.<br />
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I chose to pick the theme <i><b>'One guy we know, posing with a bunch of other people we don't'.</b></i><br />
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Oh, sure! I could have picked, say, 'People sitting on a rocky beach'. Like my aunt here.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIixc1wJdFmSugxpSuP6Dl8NnJK0J0b0cWFphi4zUIUIVfHk228yPuJV0ZveYGpzQGBvbZqBHzkf155X-qIIr7NEkWezYd37GS1vOQlQEOPhiKzwJQ2ioPII2guc0eope9OwhOQrCcy_Z9/s1600/foster+family.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1567" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIixc1wJdFmSugxpSuP6Dl8NnJK0J0b0cWFphi4zUIUIVfHk228yPuJV0ZveYGpzQGBvbZqBHzkf155X-qIIr7NEkWezYd37GS1vOQlQEOPhiKzwJQ2ioPII2guc0eope9OwhOQrCcy_Z9/s400/foster+family.jpeg" width="391" /></a></div>
Or, like I said, 'One guy we know, and a bunch of people we don't'.<br />
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But it turns out we know a bunch of these.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRmxgaT6uQ1hh-Vhgm66YhpjZU43S3KHiGz0azK9xJCXwl-pjahIKj7sxhd79uzeygetd9ptOv0Z2pBb2IhSL4weZqtgtKr85TDMnCqmxfdezqphhZo0ZNwQsrGl9ym9mQA09CaBR9KCtk/s1600/foster%252C+Ernie+and+Silvia+wedding.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1127" data-original-width="1600" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRmxgaT6uQ1hh-Vhgm66YhpjZU43S3KHiGz0azK9xJCXwl-pjahIKj7sxhd79uzeygetd9ptOv0Z2pBb2IhSL4weZqtgtKr85TDMnCqmxfdezqphhZo0ZNwQsrGl9ym9mQA09CaBR9KCtk/s400/foster%252C+Ernie+and+Silvia+wedding.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
Or maybe just a group of people at a happy event. London family wedding.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRiqCE4WTJROX8gZu-veQ3iwXdLDOtlO4gY7Mzuqvl1MnuYZRto6XkrxmyEIXWVbQdSK7GN0WuWRXGpenYJs18IDa2d7-U1BL-_20uNB1LNAp0BOFEOJwmzj9qzVMUOnX6W5V-i0IehHOx/s1600/Leslie+Foster+St+John+Amb.+Brig.+4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1013" data-original-width="1553" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRiqCE4WTJROX8gZu-veQ3iwXdLDOtlO4gY7Mzuqvl1MnuYZRto6XkrxmyEIXWVbQdSK7GN0WuWRXGpenYJs18IDa2d7-U1BL-_20uNB1LNAp0BOFEOJwmzj9qzVMUOnX6W5V-i0IehHOx/s400/Leslie+Foster+St+John+Amb.+Brig.+4.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
Or 'One guy we know, and a bunch of <b>guys</b> we don't.'<br />
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But our prompt had women in it.<br />
Dad is second adult from the right.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg95VrdlNng0Yb0hLaZoeOp59hgQmRh-ws0rqn1FiZ8uC1IBeJW0Egsw2KbUHSvPV500dvCwAkC_UbUtEh5U4Ykk_Oy6RQySoDNm0FWFI_MdlsjGFn5JEyisDYgm_48InVIgvrvHBAClRb4/s1600/Leslie+RAF+2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1557" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg95VrdlNng0Yb0hLaZoeOp59hgQmRh-ws0rqn1FiZ8uC1IBeJW0Egsw2KbUHSvPV500dvCwAkC_UbUtEh5U4Ykk_Oy6RQySoDNm0FWFI_MdlsjGFn5JEyisDYgm_48InVIgvrvHBAClRb4/s400/Leslie+RAF+2.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
This one has a woman.<br />
Dads basic training group.<br />
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Dad, top row, second from the left.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9FAR944BrRfv1iwL9eygk7XXvNW2DsOTMGyP56MKoxoRCwmjOT9Sj7J4XuauCHusWEengz8Rk4DCKtL-YE2PfAo89MylIeZJcoVb9-MvCETKT3GEqpTUKOpFovIKsPhLXSsomgR5ABYrk/s1600/Unknown+trip%252C+maybe+Leslie+F+lower+right..jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1001" data-original-width="1600" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9FAR944BrRfv1iwL9eygk7XXvNW2DsOTMGyP56MKoxoRCwmjOT9Sj7J4XuauCHusWEengz8Rk4DCKtL-YE2PfAo89MylIeZJcoVb9-MvCETKT3GEqpTUKOpFovIKsPhLXSsomgR5ABYrk/s400/Unknown+trip%252C+maybe+Leslie+F+lower+right..jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
No women in this one either.<br />
We think its dad lower right with the hat on.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjle8NES9S2gmBUiiTCSIn03OOaUb4AzR8ZTsfcznJMFcmdVUNUIO8FY29V62iUd-fX9P4fxOlHOJldcpR_ovp0QWnm3yuCzYXa9x8XmXFxZoffKQGMiUNM4rr9USO-XJvlPzM8XfopqcHL/s1600/Leslie+Foster+right+in+the+middle.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1016" data-original-width="1600" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjle8NES9S2gmBUiiTCSIn03OOaUb4AzR8ZTsfcznJMFcmdVUNUIO8FY29V62iUd-fX9P4fxOlHOJldcpR_ovp0QWnm3yuCzYXa9x8XmXFxZoffKQGMiUNM4rr9USO-XJvlPzM8XfopqcHL/s400/Leslie+Foster+right+in+the+middle.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
But this is the one I really wanted.<br />
Dad, right in the middle, with a bunch of people we don't know, and probably never will.<br />
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I have tried to trace this location by asking England family, but no luck so far.<br />
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We recognize no one else on either side of the family.<br />
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But the hunt continues.JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-25988911781661644702020-02-20T12:39:00.002-06:002020-02-20T12:39:22.455-06:00My Sepia Saturday Post for this week.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMEfN7DG4QpB711whlPg5RAw3QJwxiYJMu3N5gcXay9QLwO9Fg_zNfSjEn8IPNin5v6n4JcnwbmYVGOtjM0BsNpAUeb6tgZyEpqfwSQbttXbZ9aBoQMdrTSievXwg7EX58DKabv6ZPPqI0/s1600/2001062x.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMEfN7DG4QpB711whlPg5RAw3QJwxiYJMu3N5gcXay9QLwO9Fg_zNfSjEn8IPNin5v6n4JcnwbmYVGOtjM0BsNpAUeb6tgZyEpqfwSQbttXbZ9aBoQMdrTSievXwg7EX58DKabv6ZPPqI0/s320/2001062x.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2020/02/sepia-saturday-508-saturday-22-february.html">Sepia sat.</a><br />
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The prompt for me this month means I once again feel left out in family photos.<br />
Should I make it about my hurt feelings or deck chairs.<br />
I should probably explain.<br />
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My Mom and Dad, my brother and myself came to America in 1956 aboard the Queen Elizabeth ocean liner. Something I am extremely proud of.<br />
It was towards the end of era of the great liners.<br />
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I have kept much of the family stuff from that trip; luggage tags, luggage, postcards, menus, etc.<br />
We even have some photos.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuJMA0CQDSlMG4i6WdUxpoVdx3ycfcPm2HhQMCqUbxwMc6jegGlMICVKBOoH12iU8ObqSHfVh6bDiMNkwyUUyNEThUB9acDz0bli75n-LRNNnFDPx3Z2qMhg58ReZpKRT1Gytp2LbIWXIw/s1600/Colin++on+the+Queen+Elizabeth.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1298" data-original-width="1328" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuJMA0CQDSlMG4i6WdUxpoVdx3ycfcPm2HhQMCqUbxwMc6jegGlMICVKBOoH12iU8ObqSHfVh6bDiMNkwyUUyNEThUB9acDz0bli75n-LRNNnFDPx3Z2qMhg58ReZpKRT1Gytp2LbIWXIw/s400/Colin++on+the+Queen+Elizabeth.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
You see, my brother has not really ever been bothered to much about keeping family history, and thats okay I guess. The thing that gets me is that while not caring about that kind of stuff, he appears in many more photos of our history than I do.<br />
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Look, here he is in a deck chair on the Queen Elizebeth.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX4qzyVj0-MLlUR4OBVCyOTHqQqhoqhyphenhyphenhynpfP5o0JLNi7aJd1h32zj9_XcqyX2g-B_9Xqd6eLBwIAwa5ra0Yh5b9XUzwtW1ktLjjqPUdNmg8gmziiSfzM0rF2MBCoydWmXOqn-3oRPn2y/s1600/Colin+on+the+Queen+Elizebeth+1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="762" data-original-width="743" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX4qzyVj0-MLlUR4OBVCyOTHqQqhoqhyphenhyphenhynpfP5o0JLNi7aJd1h32zj9_XcqyX2g-B_9Xqd6eLBwIAwa5ra0Yh5b9XUzwtW1ktLjjqPUdNmg8gmziiSfzM0rF2MBCoydWmXOqn-3oRPn2y/s400/Colin+on+the+Queen+Elizebeth+1.jpeg" width="390" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1_HI-iKYpxZBmvp9YyUkasT5kag0kllhncrwCZ9mXS-I7JLdLB-vswdIqupn4m2uTy9bKAqgDX282-UHLODBia2Qzy-_GW9HTHG86JhANCxR5rTVq_VWfFBrh7eXLIVimerZSv2zl3iCI/s1600/Colin+and+Leslie+on+the+Queen+Elizabeth.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1493" data-original-width="1534" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1_HI-iKYpxZBmvp9YyUkasT5kag0kllhncrwCZ9mXS-I7JLdLB-vswdIqupn4m2uTy9bKAqgDX282-UHLODBia2Qzy-_GW9HTHG86JhANCxR5rTVq_VWfFBrh7eXLIVimerZSv2zl3iCI/s400/Colin+and+Leslie+on+the+Queen+Elizabeth.jpeg" width="400" /></a><br />
Look, here he is in front of the one of the stacks, allowed to stand by himself.<br />
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And here he is with dad in front of the Statue of Liberty.<br />
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Finally! One, small, photo of ME!<br />
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Maybe I should make it about deck chairs.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL8IlLYaxWas-hGUAwxOu7Bbyj6nwWxWYmkAhG5TMHYdbrXAWVfEmzMtnMsuB0kufvRBT6TzfcDb81FoGpbSxit2zBGVW0YUGz0N1AZti6LP9ZHBxzd1dprmkwQz0TaMhtELZmTBi9Di_3/s1600/Colin+1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="648" data-original-width="632" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL8IlLYaxWas-hGUAwxOu7Bbyj6nwWxWYmkAhG5TMHYdbrXAWVfEmzMtnMsuB0kufvRBT6TzfcDb81FoGpbSxit2zBGVW0YUGz0N1AZti6LP9ZHBxzd1dprmkwQz0TaMhtELZmTBi9Di_3/s400/Colin+1.jpeg" width="390" /></a></div>
My brother in a deck chair.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcBp8rzjElUce_3terwBWE5DlJpAARwJTxfXcO88j51KbCJPG-JIQL7fL8mcdUpyeB_cbsCjJAzqhu5s_3HcI7eCP1E5sgjuggB5_QulmQVLjaKZK_WlkAB0iSE3IwQSLDCB5TrPPS_hM2/s1600/Leslie+and+Margaret+Foster+at+the+seaside.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1054" data-original-width="1600" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcBp8rzjElUce_3terwBWE5DlJpAARwJTxfXcO88j51KbCJPG-JIQL7fL8mcdUpyeB_cbsCjJAzqhu5s_3HcI7eCP1E5sgjuggB5_QulmQVLjaKZK_WlkAB0iSE3IwQSLDCB5TrPPS_hM2/s400/Leslie+and+Margaret+Foster+at+the+seaside.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
Mom and dad in a deck chair.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd7Lte5epQoYSU-IppC4XdkJUYticpVJ2trqHDGtEQo-by47wDmk-x5aaNRJ92UNDgm8bziu-fFW44D6oKvQGt5i6AvraiFCCIkr5HfCsLc7jmNKuwGByJI3pn9NJ2V8zwksovlNoHKqN5/s1600/Marian+Cryer+%2528Harrison%2529.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="856" data-original-width="576" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd7Lte5epQoYSU-IppC4XdkJUYticpVJ2trqHDGtEQo-by47wDmk-x5aaNRJ92UNDgm8bziu-fFW44D6oKvQGt5i6AvraiFCCIkr5HfCsLc7jmNKuwGByJI3pn9NJ2V8zwksovlNoHKqN5/s400/Marian+Cryer+%2528Harrison%2529.jpeg" width="268" /></a></div>
A Yorkshire aunt in a deck chair.<br />
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Two Yorkshire aunts and an uncle and cousins in or around deck chairs.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTE_4ZKhxn4oUtjiKM28TYQ5OIcfFKN5HIVSmIWSRY_vwasZ5SRZX1AxdI1mRRRWaD9QTasFQULeNBAfEtAsxFj91moAb2vKXs-enbn7HBnID6irT0NlJaIhgOnG37cU4-y-2zoRgHeX7m/s1600/Doris+and+John+1964.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="980" data-original-width="732" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTE_4ZKhxn4oUtjiKM28TYQ5OIcfFKN5HIVSmIWSRY_vwasZ5SRZX1AxdI1mRRRWaD9QTasFQULeNBAfEtAsxFj91moAb2vKXs-enbn7HBnID6irT0NlJaIhgOnG37cU4-y-2zoRgHeX7m/s400/Doris+and+John+1964.jpeg" width="298" /></a></div>
London Aunt and Uncle in deck chairs.<br />
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Oh, wait, one of me in a deck chair.<br />
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I feel better now.JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-40122269773137842012020-02-12T11:14:00.001-06:002020-02-13T13:01:17.983-06:00My Sepia Saturday for this week.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjohZ1eaeByh3Wb6PEAQXMGTXhJfjkOSV3mzhOLafbW7yGetT16wQ3DH2vl5AL70WbZMqodPNdbwaIdmjY7BHyJc0PtTE-tci8TR4DG4JeknExX3rBHq4uiswH3l4LXx_kPI0x6MxAcf3Pa/s1600/Sepai+Sat..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjohZ1eaeByh3Wb6PEAQXMGTXhJfjkOSV3mzhOLafbW7yGetT16wQ3DH2vl5AL70WbZMqodPNdbwaIdmjY7BHyJc0PtTE-tci8TR4DG4JeknExX3rBHq4uiswH3l4LXx_kPI0x6MxAcf3Pa/s320/Sepai+Sat..jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
This weeks prompt suggests a crowded dining hall to me, so that is what I am going with. . .<br />
and also a mystery.<br />
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Over the last several weeks I have been scanning old family photos. Most I can name, some I need help with.<br />
Like all old photos that were taken many years ago, by people known or unknown who now may have passed, some will go untitled for ever.<br />
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However, last week is was lucky with the picture to the left.<br />
In with some of my aunts photos was this photo of the Mauretania.<br />
One of the stars of the White Star line, built I believe around 1938.<br />
Nothing on the back to indicate why it was amongst my aunts photos.<br />
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Doing some family research last week I came across an old boarding list that listed my uncle and two of his sons having travelled on the Mauretania on a return trip to England in 1952. One mystery solved.<br />
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Which brings us to this weeks<br />
<a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/">Sepia Sat.</a> choice picture.<br />
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Also amongst my aunts photos was this photo of a gathering. And once again, nothing written on the back.<br />
Not sure if it is England of the USA.<br />
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Well, I guess I still have my work cut out for me.<br />
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And once that one is done, I have yet to do this one.<br />
My moms family are Yorkshire people, but I know of no one who worked at a sugar plant there.<br />
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'the Game is Afoot!"JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-82686038161188714172020-02-07T15:12:00.002-06:002020-02-07T15:12:32.600-06:00My contribution to this weeks Sepia Saturday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1dKpaJo0Bo-SqZBi3cdOWw92sfgORNtcrVamYEILm09B10RZMg0ZCg9kldhete2uC14HF57wSQ7PYslDYcTW9ejG5mV5JbRdA4Eqd0v7G_W-QeLbvpoadt3Tz4CpmFiHPiYGI0sbX8NzJ/s1600/Colin%252C+David%252C++Sheila+and+Pauline.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="632" data-original-width="656" height="385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1dKpaJo0Bo-SqZBi3cdOWw92sfgORNtcrVamYEILm09B10RZMg0ZCg9kldhete2uC14HF57wSQ7PYslDYcTW9ejG5mV5JbRdA4Eqd0v7G_W-QeLbvpoadt3Tz4CpmFiHPiYGI0sbX8NzJ/s400/Colin%252C+David%252C++Sheila+and+Pauline.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
I chose to think of this weeks image as suggesting pretending to be in something that wasn't real but representing something real and taking a photo.<br />
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This on is about 1955, seaside somewhere near Yorkshire, with my brother in the front.<br />
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They are all pretending to be in a 'canoe'.<br />
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My mom in dark jumper, with her sister up front.<br />
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Seem group as the first one but other side.<br />
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<a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/">Sepia Sat.</a>JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-15948914187908966012020-02-05T14:48:00.002-06:002020-02-05T14:48:12.691-06:00My late contribution to Sepia Saturday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-IOU6R0UIzDJR6S-nSHPOHsr3j91S8hfFDpCk7ElOPhw38x1W9ykKLL3dw-4HxiUyhStAIlsXMQ79QQQmX86L_7UAQYWx6CpBx71DAITacjwnho4KLDHt3VOFe-XwE64HDRVn0nMrCzyI/s1600/ShipsNo+1+Princess+Elizebeth+%2528002%2529+-+Copy.jpg.gallery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="433" data-original-width="650" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-IOU6R0UIzDJR6S-nSHPOHsr3j91S8hfFDpCk7ElOPhw38x1W9ykKLL3dw-4HxiUyhStAIlsXMQ79QQQmX86L_7UAQYWx6CpBx71DAITacjwnho4KLDHt3VOFe-XwE64HDRVn0nMrCzyI/s400/ShipsNo+1+Princess+Elizebeth+%2528002%2529+-+Copy.jpg.gallery.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
For many years my Grandfather and Uncle worked for Cochran and Sons ship builders in Selby England.<br />
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I never really knew either but mom always talked about the job they did.<br />
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Grandfather was a blacksmith and my uncle was a fitter.<br />
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The ship yard closed down in the early 90's.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisZD6W2CDbNtidDRcDj0zBKWVqiHDbzWRffSJV9-ReKNIOBk5XMvaxhbNWE0wMnbNsTF-LXHBo-7k6BIfVZnQxp7myp6mJiWOPO0MFNKI7yEdbD2pLu1Mt-hlOZ8Rv3VmuC2qJmyq7k-1U/s1600/ShipsNo+2+E+Bronson+Ingram+%2528002%2529+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="620" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisZD6W2CDbNtidDRcDj0zBKWVqiHDbzWRffSJV9-ReKNIOBk5XMvaxhbNWE0wMnbNsTF-LXHBo-7k6BIfVZnQxp7myp6mJiWOPO0MFNKI7yEdbD2pLu1Mt-hlOZ8Rv3VmuC2qJmyq7k-1U/s400/ShipsNo+2+E+Bronson+Ingram+%2528002%2529+-+Copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
These rather large ocean going tugs were built pretty far inland on the River Ouse.<br />
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There house was only a short walk to the shipyard.<br />
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But keeping more with the photo theme, in 2010 we had the pleasure of canal cruising for a week in England and Wales.<br />
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<a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2020/01/sepia-saturday-505-1-february-2020.html">Sepia sat.</a>JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-11525647621450426322020-01-04T18:45:00.000-06:002020-01-04T18:45:06.312-06:00My Sepia Sat. contribution for today. . Smiles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVBUaJOpqYfnUQVahN1jB5GPFEWijfH0G0vzIlhgmgaaEddRgVlusqVBZ5lfVxHlUBmS54Os3jGmaTZ9K_5zySvZ-RXZ-iCgZIf3lJ_ZIUDAlqXG17aAEYbdH2vM6-7l6SwyyBK7EYJFi1/s1600/april+17+scanned+pictures+1+002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="676" data-original-width="696" height="387" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVBUaJOpqYfnUQVahN1jB5GPFEWijfH0G0vzIlhgmgaaEddRgVlusqVBZ5lfVxHlUBmS54Os3jGmaTZ9K_5zySvZ-RXZ-iCgZIf3lJ_ZIUDAlqXG17aAEYbdH2vM6-7l6SwyyBK7EYJFi1/s400/april+17+scanned+pictures+1+002.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Alan challenged us to find smiles to match the one he posted.<br />
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Well, I don't if I did that (it was a pretty good smile), but maybe three will make up some of the difference.<br />
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This picture is of my mom (center) with her younger sister and her mother.<br />
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Her mom, Eleanor, had lost a leg to illness and this picture looks like the sisters were trying to make her day.<br />
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My mom, in the apron, and my dad were living with her mother helping to take care of her.<br />
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It jus so happens these are the only two sisters still alive out of five girls and two boys.JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-59001424068878087712019-11-24T08:03:00.002-06:002019-11-24T08:04:54.813-06:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYFyXkEmmcs8p6lfhCsYa_vRnDWv5RnDVxiuRcIGYdaI9CGsn4RrILE84BDZh-1k0ttI6_7UQYu-6g2JdbE9tA0ce8GXSUyBYlFv57bsj-Sg3O6NjYfERGs-5Fliu5G_4-vSNoiTKMYpa8/s1600/April+28+scan+6+004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="932" data-original-width="712" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYFyXkEmmcs8p6lfhCsYa_vRnDWv5RnDVxiuRcIGYdaI9CGsn4RrILE84BDZh-1k0ttI6_7UQYu-6g2JdbE9tA0ce8GXSUyBYlFv57bsj-Sg3O6NjYfERGs-5Fliu5G_4-vSNoiTKMYpa8/s400/April+28+scan+6+004.jpg" width="305" /></a></div>
I have not done Sephia Sat. for a while. Retirement has found me too busy.<br />
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But I will try again starting this week, a day late.<br />
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This is my mom from some time in the Late 30's.<br />
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She can only guess now who the two little ones are. We think my cousins.<br />
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Love the old stove in the back.<br />
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<a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2019/11/sepia-saturday-497-23-november-2019.html">Sepia Sat.</a><br />
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<br />JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-5394096566914183112018-04-16T08:20:00.005-05:002018-04-16T08:20:51.153-05:00When the end draws near - A love story.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC3ELSXmZyfYoB0JAn4nYbKRiRQCgCi_rpywsopGlItV1xtv8n0oWx5JrkEqBMaIrDGuPAun0T7n7z5kYdoBPsr3Rlw5xfl3cWtattxRlMv861JBiMve0coQbo-bf2hjUPRveJS9OomkSw/s1600/18d4859459c252c74ca7b24f23dcd334.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="438" data-original-width="380" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC3ELSXmZyfYoB0JAn4nYbKRiRQCgCi_rpywsopGlItV1xtv8n0oWx5JrkEqBMaIrDGuPAun0T7n7z5kYdoBPsr3Rlw5xfl3cWtattxRlMv861JBiMve0coQbo-bf2hjUPRveJS9OomkSw/s320/18d4859459c252c74ca7b24f23dcd334.jpg" width="277" /></a></div>
<i>We met almost 37 years ago.</i><br />
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<i>We were introduced by an old girl friend.</i><br />
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<i>We have been in contact almost everyday since then.</i><br />
<i>Sometimes coming together several times a day.</i><br />
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<i>While you are still working, as of yesterday, I know your days are numbered. </i><br />
<i>Just a couple of years ago we lost your sister.</i><br />
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<i>I will miss you.</i><br />
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Well, if you can fall in love with an appliance, I did.<br />
When I came back from visiting relatives in England in 1980 I raved about an electric tea kettle my family had in Harrogate, Yorkshire.<br />
My then girl friend took it upon herself to find me an electric tea kettle from England (she's also the one that got me my Scotty dog). You couldn't just order one from England because an English pluggy thingy does not work in a US pluggy thingy.<br />
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Her dad at the time worked for J.C. Penny's and I believe that is how she located one. They weren't cheap, probably at the time around eighty bucks. Once I found them available we ordered one for my mom, we (I) called the two kettles sisters;)<br />
While the girl friend (who is still a friend) did not end up being true love, her gift to me was. A relationship that has lasted all this time.<br />
The one from her to me died about two years ago, after being used 6-10 times a day since I got it.<br />
The electric parts still worked. The welds on the neck started failing. I tried to come up with all sorts of ideas to keep using it for something else, but nothing seemed suitable.<br />
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Moms started leaking around the neck also a couple of years ago, so we got her a new tea kettle.<br />
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I still use hers out at the cabin and am just careful when I pour from it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA5xP9CngGuKdrwrcKBDSDqwzk86Lv3rsiSvoH6JWsmDgYmKwkP_0w_WJZbnh5gWbblpTUezZlGVC-KDYYPFDO9iEt7GX2B9BYgpQ_Av2CkvfN9gs6JNDNJM-rdmg2Dq0ZyXEDWtY6za3d/s1600/IMG_3517.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="968" data-original-width="1296" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA5xP9CngGuKdrwrcKBDSDqwzk86Lv3rsiSvoH6JWsmDgYmKwkP_0w_WJZbnh5gWbblpTUezZlGVC-KDYYPFDO9iEt7GX2B9BYgpQ_Av2CkvfN9gs6JNDNJM-rdmg2Dq0ZyXEDWtY6za3d/s320/IMG_3517.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Here it is yesterday after being used several times.<br />
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This is a relationship I will miss when the time comes.<br />
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No, I never did name it.JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-14654445628362786012018-04-14T22:00:00.000-05:002018-04-14T22:04:55.237-05:00Sepia Saturday contribution for this week - Nope, dad never needed a wheelbarrow.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJV698RL9iUw3f52OM8D_O0AH_qIna6Fgg-rzGUARTldYmAVqFA9TZabgmDKPfcGaoY9-ltT_R6teAUNPzZxsnWJp6aaxsiRrH2Q2SjuD7dCNf65lTUE1HCDMT1QAsW6HfOtnAFvX1m6pC/s1600/sp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="632" data-original-width="640" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJV698RL9iUw3f52OM8D_O0AH_qIna6Fgg-rzGUARTldYmAVqFA9TZabgmDKPfcGaoY9-ltT_R6teAUNPzZxsnWJp6aaxsiRrH2Q2SjuD7dCNf65lTUE1HCDMT1QAsW6HfOtnAFvX1m6pC/s320/sp.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Let's see; factory, fish, wheelbarrow? Which could we have that may contain one of those?<br />
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<a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2018/04/sepia-saturday-414-14-april-2018.html">Sepia Saturday for April 14th.</a><br />
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My dad never needed a wheelbarrow for his catches.<br />
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Never caught more than you see here at one time.<br />
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This was probably one of his better days with the fishing pole.<br />
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Oh, he tried real hard. Got up early. Tried all the baits all the others were using.<br />
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Had the proper attire.<br />
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But he just never really ever caught that many.<br />
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He didn't care. It was all about being out there and trying.<br />
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And being with family.<br />
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He loved getting the camper ready, and cooking over the fire or on the camp stove.<br />
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This photo my actually be from the last time he went to his favorite river to trout fish.<br />
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I really love this picture.<br />
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Now my brother on the other hand ( he is on the left ), he had no trouble bringing them in.<br />
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Matter of fact, once he got his limit he would usually then work on mine. That was okay, I didn't like to fish anyway.<br />
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After mine, he would then work on moms limit.<br />
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And then, near the end of the weekend if dad hadn't caught all he was allowed by Sunday afternoon, my brother would finish his limit.<br />
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Here he is teaching his kids the art of filling limits.<br />
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Both these young gentlemen now have kids of their own.<br />
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But so far my brothers knack of catching fish seems to be skipping a couple of generations.JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-33536740192436343402018-03-31T07:49:00.001-05:002018-03-31T08:07:34.528-05:00Yes, I was 'over there' before we were 'over here'.<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The one time my family makes the headlines and I am no where to be seen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">These memories came flooding back with this weeks <a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2018/03/sepia-saturday-412-31st-march-2018.html">Sepia Saturday prompt.</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">My tale of woe goes all the way back to 1956, Friday, November 9th to be exact.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span>(But who's counting.)</div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Yea, I was around back then. Had been for a little over 13 months.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Not only did my family make the headlines, we (they) had a rather large photo placed on the front page under that headline. (This one to the left without me in it.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">But I am no where to be seen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I have always been proud of the fact that we came <i>‘over here’</i> from ‘<i>over there</i>’ ( a lady in a grocery store once asked my dad if we had driven all the way ‘here’ from ‘over there’).</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I like having that connection to a far away place, <i>“We’re from over there.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">As much as I can, I celebrate my ‘<i>over there’</i> heritage. (<i>At least as much as one can without having to relive that famous revolution of the late 1700’s with my neighbors.) </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">You know the kind of thing; president of the local Sherlock Holmes club, the Stars and Strips and the Union Jack stickers on my trucks bumper. A “Brown Betty” on my desk at work (you would be surprised how many pens you can get in a “Brown Betty”). I even named two of my dogs after that earlier dynamic duo, Sherlock and Watson. Teaching my daughter to eat beans on toast and kippers. That sort of thing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Do you think I have an unhealthy need to prove that “yes, I too was born ‘<i>over there</i>’”?</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Now I realize my brother is a couple of years older than me, and that that fact alone allows for more time to have had more pictures taken of him ‘<i>over there</i>’ before we came ‘<i>over here</i>’.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">But it seems I have been left with this need to prove that I existed before ‘<i>over here’, </i>you know, <i>'over there'.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">There are far fewer photos of me ‘<i>over there</i>’. Lots of my brother ( and did I mention, he does not have this need to prove he was ‘<i>over there</i>’ before we were ‘<i>over here’</i>). He hardly ever even brings up ‘over there’.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">There are lots of pictures of him with uncles and aunts, at the sea side, in prams.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">On grandmas knee.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Any photos of me seem a little blurred in comparison. Almost like an after thought; “Oh yea! Let’s get one of ‘what’s his name’”.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwmDFnUo5VXrwpdICz5NAiZ-vNwGWFgzmQeRwf-QeJRX955veEwKdH0dd3kB6L5SZDVmxGhTHs6eWEQewR5lUhDTgfEoCsFRmh3BsOvkpMiIRhBBQbJu8Mz8ZeRKbGS4CL2qMg6QYBsh0h/s1600/IMG_0257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwmDFnUo5VXrwpdICz5NAiZ-vNwGWFgzmQeRwf-QeJRX955veEwKdH0dd3kB6L5SZDVmxGhTHs6eWEQewR5lUhDTgfEoCsFRmh3BsOvkpMiIRhBBQbJu8Mz8ZeRKbGS4CL2qMg6QYBsh0h/s400/IMG_0257.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">We came over on the Queen Elizabeth in Nov. of 1956. I was always told I was the only one that didn’t get sea sick. Apparently the sea can be kinda rough in November. So maybe during my best photographic moments everyone else was too sick to hold and use a camera. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">(Dad, however, never did mention missing many meals while mom was in the cabin sick with us kids.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">And there are several pictures of my brother on that great ship. Standing on deck. Seated with a life ring that says ‘Queen Elizabeth’ around his neck. One of dad holding him up as we passed that great lady in New York harbor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">But only one, yes one, of me. “Oh yea! Lets get one with ‘What’s his name’”. (Did I mention I hold onto that trunk my brother is sitting in to prove I was ‘<i>over there’ </i>also.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">So this weeks Sepia Saturday prompt again brought this sad longing in my life once more to the surface.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Did I exist ‘<i>over there’</i> before we had ‘<i>over here</i>’?</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Some where buried within that now browned newspaper article I am indeed mentioned.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I comfort myself thinking that mom always said, and it says so in the newspaper, that we were only going (coming over) for a short time, “12 months, maybe three years.” So maybe they thought we would be back in plenty of time to take more pictures of me, while I was still young, ‘<i>over there’</i> after we got back from ‘<i>over here</i>’.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Maybe I had fallen asleep while the photographer took so long to set up the shot.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Maybe I had fallen down inside the trunk and the line for other people to have pictures taken was just too long to reset the shot.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">As it turned out I had to wait 15 years to have another picture taken of me ‘<i>over there</i>’.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">But I hold no grudge.</span></div>
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JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-59951566958042929382018-02-16T23:09:00.000-06:002018-02-16T23:14:31.833-06:00Sepia Saturday - Feb 16th = Wet or Tall?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic67iUmYbnhFCZ__DbWVGGsL-y9pYVf7Vg0HrDk5PTK4CIp7Kc7dm-BC3lPoT4fmApu0pjUKXckkAeOAvCP5VNFqO85gDDw-uu3GRkX-yoby3yjMJkS1yyV7C5GEtjA56aD0aWdqBanqWb/s1600/1801039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1204" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic67iUmYbnhFCZ__DbWVGGsL-y9pYVf7Vg0HrDk5PTK4CIp7Kc7dm-BC3lPoT4fmApu0pjUKXckkAeOAvCP5VNFqO85gDDw-uu3GRkX-yoby3yjMJkS1yyV7C5GEtjA56aD0aWdqBanqWb/s400/1801039.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
This is the prompt for this weeks <a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.co.uk/2018/02/sepia-saturday-406-17-february-2018.html">Sepia Saturday </a>post.<br />
Lots to chose from here.<br />
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Something tall, something wet, playing, water sports, hanging out (thanks Alan), the list could go on.<br />
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I was hoping to find something similar but could not combine something watery and something tall.<br />
So I had to make a choice.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH4eCO8XETtephmnkA-3A_MeAXBd79yEsQBoW5TfnqhPHjUF7XFKs8vMS8c9MWh-yo41HIAk3fpe4Wr0tVIlaTgKPBTwMXijflZAJsQnniR9liPLlunOnMUMjsAfmUWWUCnz434hsodU5v/s1600/Scan+9.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="963" data-original-width="1230" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH4eCO8XETtephmnkA-3A_MeAXBd79yEsQBoW5TfnqhPHjUF7XFKs8vMS8c9MWh-yo41HIAk3fpe4Wr0tVIlaTgKPBTwMXijflZAJsQnniR9liPLlunOnMUMjsAfmUWWUCnz434hsodU5v/s400/Scan+9.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
I thought about going with something tall. . .<br />
. . . like this monkey bridge our Boy Scout troop built in the early 60's.<br />
(and a tall signal tower in the background).<br />
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But this just wasn't enough.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFlSljYxSqcRVG2Ii1nrJj3A6RQH9FkrHXYW3kvZvAxNmc86Z_Xch89KehJa3ON8AXikFtjQ5nu0P9KQTqsuWyueu7JShuFwHZpxFWlKdscTYGJYg9grvzkYW9cJELUTP0N_MZyokAWDrR/s1600/Scan+10.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="938" data-original-width="1216" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFlSljYxSqcRVG2Ii1nrJj3A6RQH9FkrHXYW3kvZvAxNmc86Z_Xch89KehJa3ON8AXikFtjQ5nu0P9KQTqsuWyueu7JShuFwHZpxFWlKdscTYGJYg9grvzkYW9cJELUTP0N_MZyokAWDrR/s400/Scan+10.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
While these are fun, I just couldn't come up with enough of a story.<br />
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So I went with the 'wet' theme, The Sea Side.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5bGMx9wfls0UDZwlSOjAsUoZlxDZC7nhDYSVOwrxr2bUSBxyo_ZAv1PUMqo8hcYODC3k4f0EZa16CsVhG0L9-zNQ6MsdIHwhBG1wrTGWR3e8EY2z9RCVfT5wMECtrZmB_HIlnfQ2QXc0f/s1600/Scan.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="993" data-original-width="687" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5bGMx9wfls0UDZwlSOjAsUoZlxDZC7nhDYSVOwrxr2bUSBxyo_ZAv1PUMqo8hcYODC3k4f0EZa16CsVhG0L9-zNQ6MsdIHwhBG1wrTGWR3e8EY2z9RCVfT5wMECtrZmB_HIlnfQ2QXc0f/s400/Scan.jpeg" width="276" /></a></div>
One of the pleasures my mom speaks of the most from childhood is the once a year trip to the 'Sea Side'.<br />
She never said, vacation or beach, or even where. It was just going to the 'Sea Side'.<br />
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It usually meant a bus ride with her dads company holiday.<br />
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And she loved to 'paddle' in the water.<br />
Not a strong swimmer by any means, 'paddling' probably meant going in up to about her knees.<br />
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In this picture is mom and three sisters and an unknown boy.<br />
Mom is kneeling on the left.<br />
Probably early 1930's.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiciyStce3N6lkN8XbWsismslz8zyJolAVy9brK0ziv2vquQl0mzCrvalhGPrQ_OXqi_5Jr6u6sGTXchGmCU5MBEu-cRJLn71IgAlGV4hExHZosNiWiauUkovnO1BVG750bf-hcgdFW1W71/s1600/Scan+4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="785" data-original-width="745" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiciyStce3N6lkN8XbWsismslz8zyJolAVy9brK0ziv2vquQl0mzCrvalhGPrQ_OXqi_5Jr6u6sGTXchGmCU5MBEu-cRJLn71IgAlGV4hExHZosNiWiauUkovnO1BVG750bf-hcgdFW1W71/s400/Scan+4.jpeg" width="378" /></a></div>
Here is my mom and brother 'paddling' on some 'Sea Side' trip.<br />
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Here my dad, never a big man, but strong, is lifting one of my moms sisters on his shoulders. My mom, on the left, and my cousin, on the right, seem to be the only ones really enjoying this experiment.<br />
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Here is a very early photo of mom and dad at the 'Sea Side'. It is either right before they were married or soon after.<br />
Just after the war.<br />
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As children, my brother and I never had holidays to the 'Sea Side'. When we got a little older we did go to Florida. While Florida has all the same components it could never be called 'going to the Sea Side'. It is after all Florida.<br />
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Another interesting thing about the Sepia Saturday prompt is the dock on which the kids are gathered.<br />
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While we never had anything so elaborate here in Missouri (at least where we went), we did have something just as memorable.<br />
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We had floating wooden docks and in the lake slimy wooden swimming pools.<br />
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These two photos show my brother and cousin diving or jumping off of one of these docks.<br />
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Like moms trips once a week with her mom and dad, for many years our ritual was one week a year at the Lake of the Ozarks, staying at the same place each year.<br />
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While mom staying in the wooden pool with the slimy bottom in the lake the whole time, my brother and I soon found we had more fun using the diving board into the lake.<br />
Avoiding completely the slimy pool bottom.<br />
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A little closer to home we had a place called 'Suntan Beach'.<br />
This was Missouri River water that was held in a shallow slough.<br />
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They had a picnic area, beach and a playground.<br />
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Here is mom and the sister we followed to America getting some rays.<br />
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Early 1960's<br />
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When all else failed we always had the little inflatable.<br />
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We do not appear to be dressed to actually get wet.<br />
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While we never had a swim dock quite like the one in the prompt, I do remember we were very happy with what we had.<br />
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Although I would be 15 before I got to 'paddle at the sea side'.JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-87451416881198730632018-02-13T15:17:00.000-06:002018-04-01T07:19:06.001-05:00I know there is a name for the condition. . . . .<div style="font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px;">
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> My parents never threw anything away. Since my dad passed away, now that can only be said about my mom.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> In this day of disposable everything, I am rather proud of that fact. Even if it does mean that the responsibility of going through that stuff now falls mostly on me.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> We check on mom by phone everyday, and usually make a visit a couple of times a week.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;">During each visit we collect recycling, and if we can, go through some of her stuff to make sorting at a later date easier.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;">Part of that has to do with getting rid of, and part has to do with finding and labeling family “heirlooms” while mom can still identify them.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232;"> But back to the never throwing away of things.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> I am sure most of it has to do with the times in which she grew up; late 1920’s England. Also the fact the she had a rather large family; 2 brothers and 4 sisters.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> While her dad always worked, as a blacksmith, they were never well off. Although a happy family, making do was just that, making do.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> Then throw in a World War, when everything was in short supply, and , well you get the picture.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> My parents held on to anything that could in some way be repurposed again. Used bits of string and twine would be rerolled for a later use.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;">Moms old nylons would be cut into narrow strips and reused to tie up the tomato plants.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;">My dad would spend hours taking apart old things and sort the screws, nuts and bolts for reuse.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> Recycling was not in vogue when they grew up, it was called reuse and repurpose.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;">Bits of garden hose would find a new use.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> Jars and cans were cleaned and used to store the above mentioned hardware, along with many other uses.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> They did not grow up in a time when you had to have the latest before the current model wore out. </span><span style="color: #f1c232;">You maintained, repaired, reused, repurposed many times over before you replaced.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> Shortly after my dad died in 2010 we decided mom needed a new refrigerator. She didn’t decide, we did. She would have kept on using the one she had and probably would have had it buried with her. </span><span style="color: #f1c232;">But its seals were gone. Many shelves were cracked or missing. And much that was there was held together by tape. The freezer was small and formed ice quicker than the South Pole. </span><span style="color: #f1c232;">If you were lucky you could make two ice trays fit and about six tv dinners.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> When we had a newer one delivered (yes we bought a used one. It’s in the blood) we asked the man if he could tell us how old the old Frigidair was.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><b>He said it was 1957. 1957!</b></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> That means it was probably the first refrigerator they bought after coming to America in 1956. </span><span style="color: #f1c232;">They probably bought it used in 1962 when they bought their first house, where mom still lives.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> That means, since it was still working, it had worked, before being hauled away, for about fifty-four years. (Now I wished I had kept it!)</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> Just think how many iPhones you will go through in fifty-four years.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> Well, this past week I was doing some cleaning around moms house and had a reason to use a few ‘rags’. That can mean that at one time these pieces of cloth could have been anything; old towels, socks, sheets, shirts, underwear (well maybe not underwear) or just about anything that could somewhat clean a surface.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> T</span><span style="color: #f1c232;">oday while sorting and folding said rags one very old one still had a printed impression on it. Barely discernible, but I could still make it out. At one time its purpose had been that of one of those dish towels that you hung on your wall with a calendar printed on it. I guess after its assigned year was up you were suppose to use it as a dish towel. ( I never have figured that one out.)</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> Like I was saying, while folding one up today to put back with the other rags I noticed the imprint and its purpose. </span><span style="color: #f1c232;">While most of the printing and images were faded the date was still clear.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;">It was 1962.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> I was only seven in 1962.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> John F Kennedy was President (and we didn’t have to worry about Trump for many years to come).</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;">We had not yet landed on the moon.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;">And most of the parents of my daughters friends were not born yet ( boy does that make me feel old).</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;">Dad was still installing airplane seat belts in ours cars, because the cars they had back then still did not come with them installed.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> I am not sure if there is an award out there for reusing and repurposing things for the longest out, but if there is, my mom would surely be in the running.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> And we have only just broken the surface of what 'heirlooms' may yet be discovered. ( I am saving all the old Tupperware for a museum.)</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> We're probably going to use some of the old things we find to test kids on their use, you know, like asking a young kid how to use an old rotary phone or play music with a cassette tape.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> I know I have inherited this gene, and I am proud of it, while my wife, not so much.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;">But, someday, mark my word, when something I got for 10 cents becomes worth 3 dollars, she will be happy I held on to it.</span></div>
<div style="display: inline; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;"> If you doubt my moms ability to hold on to things, I have included a photo of the towel.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span></div>
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JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-22142312929490775792018-01-17T12:53:00.000-06:002018-01-17T20:23:54.474-06:00What is it about American eating establishments and Tea? A rant.I do not drink coffee. Never have. Love the smell of it, but can't stand the taste.<br />
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Tea, however, is a must. We were brought up with it. My aunt use to make it for us kids with lots of milk and lots of sugar and not too hot.<br />
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Now I usually drink it black with sugar. But milk, or cream, does occasionally make an appearance.<br />
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I almost (99% of the time) always start my day with a cuppa, usually putting the kettle on as I turn on lights in the kitchen.<br />
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A cup always leaves the house with me as I go to work (or for that matter, anywhere), all four seasons.<br />
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During cold weather tea is a staple all day. In summer, drinking hot tea ends after a couple cups, with me trading off for ice tea or diet soda later in the day.<br />
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My go to tea is PG Tips. Decaf most of the time (it is the only decaf I have found that I can call tea).<br />
Many a morning I trade off a PG Tips for an English or Irish Breakfast tea. Twining's usually.<br />
I have also started using a 'Builder's' tea in the mornings when I am out at the cabin.<br />
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Famous naturalist John Muir many times went hiking with nothing put a thermos of tea and bread. Perfect!<br />
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I have accepted an Earl Grey as drinkable and will sometimes still have one after having it be the only tea that was brought along on an 18 day Grand Canyon kayak/raft trip.<br />
( I had told the man planning the trip that I did not drink coffee, a staple for outdoor trips, and that I was pretty picky about my tea, I offered to get my own so as not to make it hard on him, but he said no, it was okay and not a problem and that he would get a good tea. He proceeded to buy a big mix of different Earl Grey's thinking that Earl Grey was the brand and not the type. When I want to think about the Grand Canyon trip I make myself a cuppa Earl Grey.)<br />
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I like my tea strong, dark and with some sugar. And like I said earlier, sometimes with cream or milk.<br />
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I don't like "flavored'" teas; raspberry, Jasmine or any of her cousins.<br />
Oolong is okay if I am having Chinese for dinner, but I still check to see if they have something darker.<br />
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A perfect afternoon for me is to sit in the one tea room St Louis has and have a scone, a pot of tea and read a book. (It doesn't happen often enough).<br />
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You could, and I am okay with it, call me a tea snob. I am after all a beer and bread snob already, so an accusation of another form of snobbery is okay.<br />
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With all that said, it probably is not hard for you to imagine that when we go out for breakfast, while my table mates are ordering coffee, I am the lone tea drinker.<br />
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I get it, coffee is a morning ritual for if not most, many Americans. And I also get it that there is different coffees and that everyone has their own preferences.<br />
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But at most breakfast type places the coffee making is habit, and the pots are emptied so quickly that most pots are served hot, fresh and often.<br />
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But if you order tea you are many times treated like a second class citizen.<br />
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Most times I have to send the water back to have it 'nuked' to make, I was going to say hotter, but instead I will say make it hot in the first place.<br />
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Although not a coffee drinker, as has been stated, I would assume the best coffee is made with real hot, boiling water.<br />
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But many, most?, restaurants don't understand that about tea. The water has to boil. (Most friends are surprised at how hot I can drink my tea, not that I try to prove anything by that fact. Just sayin')<br />
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We tea drinkers are not treated like the coffee drinkers.<br />
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Neither in quality or temperature.<br />
And definitely not in quantity.<br />
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Most tea served over here in restaurants is Lipton's, or something real close to a 'Lipton' type tea.<br />
Now, don't get me wrong, if Lipton's is served HOT and allowed to steep the whole time you drink it, it is very drinkable, and much better than some off brands. (Okay, till I found a better, it was my go to tea.)<br />
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Occasionally you will get a better tea, but in those cases the water is so tepid that the quality of the tea is lost. It doesn't matter how good your tea is if I can't steep properly.<br />
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There are some restaurant chains over here that I won't even bother ordering hot tea in because the chain is universally bad at making hot water (Denny's).<br />
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Their are some chains where I know the water will be good and hot but the brand of tea they carry is pretty bad. So in those cases I always bring in a couple bags I always keep stored in my truck. I am okay with supplying my own tea after my Grand Canyon experience and I appreciate the fact that their water is hot.<br />
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Another thing. While with most restaurants the coffee cup is bottomless, every time the server passes by they either fill your cup automatically or at least ask if you would like more.<br />
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With tea drinkers, at best you will be asked if you would like more tepid water poured on top of your already used tea bag.<br />
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Most times you have to ask for more water (nuke it please) and another tea bag.<br />
And you really feel bad if you are enjoying sitting and talking to your wife over a late breakfast and she is on her eighth cup of coffee and you have to ask for a third tea bag.<br />
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Supply and demand I guess.<br />
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But occasionally you will be surprised.<br />
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Having an eleven year old child, over the last couple of years we have gone to a Disney theme park a few times. And once you do that, at least for a little while, you get all kind of mailings from Disney. Being big fans of anything Disney we are for the most part okay with that.<br />
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In every issue of one of their bigger magazines they usually talk to someone who helps make the park special. In one issue they talked to one of their head chef's. And he made a very fine point about treating tea drinks as well as drinkers of other beverages. Even going into the best way he believes it should be served. Another reason to love things Disney.<br />
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Another surprise I have found is that on rare occasions you will find a good tea in surprising places (it doesn't happen often).<br />
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Case in point, Waffle House. Breakfast is my favorite meal to eat out, especially if you have a favorite place to get it. While Waffle House does not fit that bill, I do enjoy their biscuits and gravy, and omelets. So once every couple of weeks, or when I head out early to the cabin, I will stop in at one of three Waffle Houses I have to pass on the way to the cabin (or work).<br />
99% of the time their water is good and hot. And I am also surprised that they use a pretty good brand of tea. At least the ones near me use a brand called Royal Cup, and I have come to look forward to it when I visit a Waffle House near me.<br />
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Rare indeed is finding a place with hot water and a good tea.<br />
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I will always keep tea bags in my truck. I will order something else at the places that just can't get it right. And I will savor the places that do get it right (The London Tea Room, St Louis and Waffle House).<br />
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But please, you may not love us tea drinkers as much, but try to treat us the same.<br />
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There . . . . I got that out of my system.JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-3977018260438105042017-10-27T12:57:00.001-05:002017-10-27T13:11:32.470-05:00Sepia Saturday 391 - Marching to a different. . . . . . piper?I don't always get to take part in each weeks <a href="https://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/">Sepia Saturday</a> because a; I either don't have something relevant to add or b; I don't get a chance to go through my old pictures to find something.<br />
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This week I was ready.<br />
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While sorting through moms old pictures over the last few years I have pile, from back in England, that no one knows anything about.<br />
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Must must have something to do with something the family must have attend or they knew someone in the photo.<br />
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But no one remembers.<br />
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This is one such photo.<br />
This photo has been in our collection of photos from England for as long as I can remember, but we don't where it was taken or by whom.<br />
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I tried researching the sign in the photo to see if I could pin down the town, but no luck.<br />
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I though it may have been Selby because there was a ship yard there, but I am not sure.<br />
My folks were living in Selby in the 50's so it could well be.<br />
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So I decide to do some research on pipe bands that had just women.<br />
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One inquiry led me to The Dagenham Girl Pipe band and many of their members seem to think it is their group from the early 50's.<br />
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The uniforms seem to match.<br />
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They have also made some suggestions about the Ships Chandler in the photo.<br />
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Isn't the Internet grand?<br />
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<br />JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-75143186589175812592017-10-19T07:27:00.002-05:002017-10-19T07:27:59.150-05:00Okay, this list is fun.<a href="https://www.outsideonline.com/1928656/most-influential-gear-all-time">The Most Influential Gear of all Time</a><br />
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<br />JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7599415608988424349.post-37567897100035813172017-09-04T14:46:00.002-05:002017-09-04T14:47:08.253-05:00Family Wheels - Sepia Sat. 383I know, I am a little late, Holiday weekend and all.<br />
But here goes.<br />
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As always with <a href="http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2017/08/sepia-saturday-383-2-september-2017.html">Sepia Sat.</a> the themes can be as loose as we chose.<br />
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So I went with the theme of the bikes and wheels.<br />
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As with most American families, over the years we have had quite a set of wheels.<br />
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One of the first sets I can remember seeing pictures of was the wheels on the Ambulance my dad drove for St. John's Ambulance Brigade.<br />
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He loved that job.<br />
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I loved working with and for people, and he also loved working with the youth program the brigade had.<br />
Similar I would imagine to the Boy Scouts.<br />
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Dad is on the left.<br />
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This seems to be a different, perhaps older ambulance.<br />
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Dad is in the ambulance with the victim.<br />
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Then of course there are the wheels of our youth.<br />
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This is me on the first set of wheel I remember. I believe it came with us from England.<br />
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It seemed so big to me back then.<br />
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This is what makes me still believe it did follow us over.<br />
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This is my brother on the bike while we were still in Selby.<br />
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Shorts and a tie, it has to be England.<br />
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Here he is again, a little younger, but still in England.<br />
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I don't remember this one, although that is me in the back.<br />
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My brother doesn't look to happy to be hauling me around.<br />
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I hate to think what this wheels picture means.<br />
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Maybe I refused to pull him or something, but he looks pretty happy with himself there holding MY teddy bear!<br />
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I remember this bike.<br />
Not so much because I ever rode it, but because I remember my brother riding down a hill that would have been just to the left of this picture and him flying over the handle bars and landing on his chest.<br />
I think that is why to this day he has very little hair there.<br />
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The trike can be seen to the right in the photo.<br />
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Another set of wheels my brother had that I never did was four wheels on a 'soap box derby' car.<br />
He is on the right.<br />
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Of course over the years dad had some pretty cool wheels.<br />
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I remember more about when we got rid of this car than actually having it.<br />
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I cried at was left the lot with a newer car.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib7FBBsXxNgROBTWtyPIBUuub5psV4y5TNOluwsLV9KxQ7P2mM_TLQ5ptNUtSnpbcZQDNxe5XKEAcmI7re37Xw2YpoRr6B4O46tlGzSHYWrpjC1Efty3ajfVEmNQG5q4vbCnCIa_6HVQSD/s1600/gs+one-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="610" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib7FBBsXxNgROBTWtyPIBUuub5psV4y5TNOluwsLV9KxQ7P2mM_TLQ5ptNUtSnpbcZQDNxe5XKEAcmI7re37Xw2YpoRr6B4O46tlGzSHYWrpjC1Efty3ajfVEmNQG5q4vbCnCIa_6HVQSD/s320/gs+one-2.jpg" width="314" /></a></div>
I would love to have this one today. It would be worth quite a lot.<br />
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1957 Chery.<br />
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Left; me with my Teddy back. Mom. My brother with a big bunny.<br />
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Easter time.<br />
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Brother and bunny and car.<br />
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Of course, as we got bigger and family vacations and interests changed, so did our wheels.<br />
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1964 Ford station wagon.<br />
A third seat, which I don't think we ever actually used folded up facing backwards in the back.<br />
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Dad finishing up the packing.<br />
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We have had many other cars and truck since then, but these are all I have in Black and White, and I didn't feel it fair to post any in color.<br />
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Well okay, maybe just one.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRaZA4Cg6Ji4Gyq1JckX0tRdV4fv6a6EsHy6L6XtHMNyz4VYFCPZGctHYCPAuLKODVRSkcnnVjI9A_sCRHg6bIwkrJdQpheOF6y8ptm3Mx8NjDa3jYGaSKlRSPH9BSg4Sk47ml5HIxqQcU/s1600/sprite+one.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="430" data-original-width="640" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRaZA4Cg6Ji4Gyq1JckX0tRdV4fv6a6EsHy6L6XtHMNyz4VYFCPZGctHYCPAuLKODVRSkcnnVjI9A_sCRHg6bIwkrJdQpheOF6y8ptm3Mx8NjDa3jYGaSKlRSPH9BSg4Sk47ml5HIxqQcU/s400/sprite+one.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
My 1962 Austin Sprite.<br />
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JohnFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13294886206454693626noreply@blogger.com2