Carving the turkey is my Grandpa, John. I blogged about him once, about how he lost a finger in a lawn mower and about his stoicism and infuriating reserve. He was in the Navy during World War II, though I could never convince him to tell me stories from those days. His reticence frustrated me back then. Now I wonder if he was too traumatized to speak of it. I don't know.
When this photo was taken, he and my grandma, Ruth, to his left, owned a 9-hole golf course (hence the lawn mower incident). They lived there, in the clubhouse, occupying a few designated rooms upstairs and off the back. We took big family meals in the common dining area. And this is where the photo was shot. Oh, how I remember that golf course. Even now, the fuely smell from a fleet of golf carts takes me right back.
The auburn-haired stunner to the right is my aunt, Betsy. She's an all around lovely person with an artistic eye and a sweet soul.
I hesitated to post this picture. It's just a holiday snapshot, after all. Probably boring to most of you. But I love how it captures a family moment, a moment when the world was about to enter 1970. And how that time makes me think of so many other happy times from my very groovy childhood.