King of the Hill


I unearthed this photo of my father and grandmother recently when going through a box in the attic. I stared at it for so long, wondering at the lost beauty of that moment, revealing the seemingly endless future that lay ahead for my father. I wonder if this was taken the day the family left Iowa to come to California. He seems to be proudly gazing back, saying goodbye to his old life, and full of hope and excitement for the adventure in his future. One thing I will say about my father is that he always cut a dashing figure. My grandmother seems to be saying, “Yes, this is my handsome son, and what of it? He always steals the spotlight, but that is natural.”  And the little Scotty dog. I never got to meet him but my mother remembers him fondly, and had a beautiful carved figurine of a Scotty dog that she doted on instead.

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