Les Green would have been 100 on September 26, 1926. He was my dad, or, as I gleaned from a speaker I saw in Chautauqua in 2024, he IS my dad. His death in 2000 does not change that fact.
I love the picture above, though I don’t know how old he is here.
Of course, I’ve written about him more than two dozen times, usually on September 25. On September 26, I write about the grandchild he never knew, my daughter. Also, I note August 10, the date he died.
I only discovered in 2019 the name of his biological father, Raymond Cone. But he was raised in the household of his grandparents, Samuel Walker and Mary Eugenia (Patterson), as well as various aunts and uncles, in Binghamton, NY.
For years, the 1930 Census confounded me. He was listed as Wesley Walker, the “son” of Samuel and Eugenia. The fiction of the relationship didn’t confuse me, but “Wesley” did. Eventually, I visited the state archives and confirmed that he was born Leslie Walker.
Flower child
I love this photo because it reminds me of his longtime talent for arranging flowers. He worked occasionally at Costas’s flower shop in Binghamton and arranged flowers for several family weddings, debutante balls, and the like. I had /have NO talent for this, but I would accompany him and my sister Leslie and schlep stuff.
BTW, I have no idea where or, especially, when these photos were taken. He looks so happy, full of joy. There’s no sign of that weird rollercoaster that I assume he experienced living with his mother, Agatha Walker, and his stepfather, McKinley, and then not, but ultimately being adopted by Mac just before Les’ 18th birthday.
I feel as though that, maybe, I had seen these photos before. But I certainly never had copies of them until my daughter and I went down to Charlotte, NC, where he, mom, and baby sister moved in 1974. We selected and scanned a bunch of pics.
It seems that I should have some profound observations on the centennial of his birth . There was some talk of maybe some family members rerecording some Green Family Singers songs, but that didn’t happen.
I still have the unanswerable questions I’ve had since he passed away. Happy birthday, dear old dad (D.O.D.), as you dubbed yourself.
