1942, Papa was 19 and headed to war in the Pacific. I love how proud my great-grandfather looks, but I also can't help but feel the more poignant reason they took this picture.
Fun fact about my great-grandfather (yell at me if I'm getting this wrong Mom!): He loved toying around with concrete and dynamite.
And in C.A.'s world, there existed a symbiosis between these substances. He made stuff by pouring concrete into molds, enjoyed it for a while, got bored with it, blew it up. I never knew him, but I'll always imagine him as a character from a John Irving novel.
So glad he didn't blow these up. I think about half a dozen of these bench ends remain in the family. We've hired a landscaper (who starts Monday!) to clean up the 1+ acre of woods behind our house and put in a few walking paths. I can't wait to give this bench its proper place once the project is finished.
Not that I'll be the one moving this thing. Holy toast it's heavy.