Today I wend my way back from Washington to Halifax. So we moved off, as Homer said, sad in the vast offing, having our precious lives, but not our friends.
Before I leave, I've tried to do as much scanning of old photographs as I could, and I put this to you: some of my ancestors could be dashing heroes of historical romance.
Take my great-great-great-uncle Francis, for instance, a veteran of the Civil War:
|I'm mean seriously: Byronic, right? Those cheekbones....|
|I think he may be using some hair pins to fasten back those luxuriant locks.|
Good looking boys they were in that family, and between them they had an unsurprising 17 children with names like Fern, Effa Eutoka, Zenas, and Enoch. Actually, that's relatively restrained, given the determined fecundity of their own parents....
Monday, April 23, 2012