30-Day Challenge: Day 20 – A 10+ Year Old Picture

Hard to believe he’s been gone 30 years this summer.


The instruction was to provide an older picture; nothing stated suggests who or what should be the subject. Since my sister Leslie sent me these pictures, along with some of my father, I thought I’d show these.

This is my grandfather, McKinley Green, who I wrote about a few times early in my blogging, here and here and here.

The particulars are lost to me so far, but apparently, McKinley, or Pop as almost called him (the others called him Mac), was my father’s stepfather. He’s not in the picture in the 1930 Census; I’ve seen the records. Yet, my father’s birth certificate, dated 1944, when my father was 18, lists Pop as my father’s father. There was a clear clerical error, however. In the section that lists the age of the parents at the time of my father’s birth, my grandmother’s info is correct, but Mac’s info listed his age in 1944, not my father’s birth year of 1926.

As noted, my grandfather loved going to the track, both for the cars and the horses. Our thing was playing gin rummy, and we played a LOT, especially on Sunday afternoons while watching Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom. And when he was looking for a card, he would often say, “Be there, finakis!” I have no idea what that meant.

Hard to believe he’s been gone 30 years this summer.
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Oh, the baby in the picture above is my eldest niece Becky, my sister Leslie’s daughter.

30-Day Challenge: Day 17- A Childhood Picture

The elementary school I went to was the one closest to my grandmother’s house, rather than the one closest to our house.

Here’s a picture of (L-R) me, my sister Leslie (16.5 months younger), sister Marcia (5 years, 2 months younger).

My recollection is that we were 10, 9, and 5. One of my sisters thinks 8, 7, and 3. My mother doesn’t remember.

Regardless, it is our very favorite picture of us, especially compared with the next picture of the three of us (NOT SHOWN, thank you very much, which we call the “year of the bad glasses.” Mine were oversized horn-rimmed, and the girls were wearing cats-eyes.

The picture above, I THINK, was taken at McLean’s department store in downtown Binghamton, NY, where my mother worked in the bookkeeping department. For all the time I can remember, my mom worked outside of the home, at McLean’s, then at Columbia Gas & Electric. When she moved to Charlotte, NC, she worked at First Union Bank as a teller.

And because she was working, the elementary school I went to was the one closest to my grandmother’s house (Daniel S. Dickinson) rather than the one closest to our house (Oak Street), which had a HUGE effect on my life. There are seven kids I knew from K-9 from Dickinson, then grades 10-12 at Binghamton Central HS, at least four of whom I’m still in touch with.

30-Day Challenge: Day 11-Recent Picture of Me

I don’t look like my sense of me.

This is a picture that a guy at church took of me in February.

I’m pretty sure I’ve told you that, as often as not, I do not recognize myself in photographs in the last two or three years, especially black and white pictures. This is because the vitiligo has lightened my face several shades, and in my mind’s eye, I don’t look like my sense of me.

There was a sermon recently in which the question posed was, “When you look in the mirror, what do you see?” I said to myself, “I DON’T look in the mirror all that much.” When I do, I see the the melanin trying to come back on my face in splotchy patches, and it’s constantly changing, depending on how much sunlight I get. It was annoying when this was happening on my arms and legs and feet a couple years ago, quite another when it appeared on my visage. It messed royally with my sense of self-identity.

I’m OK with it, but to suggest I was great with it would be a huge stretch. None of this should be construed as some sort of self-loathing; it’s more like a mild toothache, not bad enough to send one to the dentist right away, but enough to be aware of so that you don’t eat food on that side of your mouth.

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