OK, another post from the treasure trove of photos of me, myself, and I. I will be including other family members as I go along, but I’m a first child, and most of them are me, me, me. Over on an e-mail list I read, this is called “shameless self promotion”, SSP. Shay-Ron over at Collie’s Corner paraphrases the old Carly Simon song, saying something like, “I’m so vain and it’s about me.”
So, all the good stuff is taken, and I just have to say, it’s about me Me ME. I have started scanning the whole mess, so I can send those which rightfully belong to others to them. But, this is about ME:
Here I am, with my brother. This brother was born thirteen months after I was, so we shared a lot in a few years until they shipped me off to school. There was a note on this photo which said, “The old truck Jim loved.” Jim was Dad, and the truck was a 1941 Dodge. If I remember correctly, the truck “came with” the building Dad bought for his business. All that happened after my grandmother, his mother, died in 1957, so that was sometime in 1958. There were big changes, we moved to Grandma’s house, and more. Anywhere, here are Granny, B1 and Dad, enjoying the truck.
Don’t cha love the glasses? Love em? I never did, and I still don’t. But my taste is slightly better now.
The truck was mainly used to haul garbage to the dump from the business. I drove it some when I was a teen, but that is another long story.
I’m off to a dusty old courthouse to try to find out when my Dad’s very German grandparents first arrived in Michigan. I’ve been trying to figure that out for a while, and I may make it soon.
End of Not so Wordless Wednesday.
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I remember asking Why are there not as many pictures of me? My Mom would say there are always more of the first child, more money and time.
I guess I made her feel bad when I asked was I adopted?
Love your pictures and story.
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Love the pictures-and the neat old truck. In my family its the same-the most pictures are of my oldest brother-next would be me, the middle child, then my youngest brother. As the years went by I guess taking pictures wasn’t as big of a deal as with the first. I enjoyed reading about your Dad’s old truck-wish I had one like that now to tool around in.
Harriet, my brothers always told me I was adopted, since they were blond/brown heads, as were our parents. Dad was blond, and Mom had brown hair. I was the odd girl out, with my red hair, which brought much teasing and all that. There weren’t too many red-heads in the area where I lived, with Dutch and Swedish family being the most common. I survived. No one then worried about harassment, if someone teased me I was supposed to suck it up, you know: Stick and Stones and all that.
Tipper, that old truck had the longest throw of any standard transmission I ever drove. No magic in the old manual transmission and clutch, you and to suck it up and drive it. Also, the seat didn’t move. Not at all. So, if you had short legs, oh well. Just sit up toward the edge of the seat and hang on to the wheel to hold yourself there when you pushed in the clutch. Fun.
Great pictures. I have one of Mom’s albums and the first half is me as a baby, the second half covers the next 8 years or so with cameos of my brother and sister.
Being a rotten big sister, I actually convinced my sister that she was adopted. Mom somehow lost/misplaced her birth certificate so she went to the clerks office to get a replacement to prove to my sister that she was not adopted. The copy at the clerks office was misfiled which kind of cinched it as far as my sister was concerned. I thought Mom was going to kill me. The clerk did eventually find it and I was allowed to live.
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