Grandpa

[zyzyly]

I was going through boxes of old stuff this morning and came across an envelope of negatives. I recognized them as pictures taken by my grandfather. He was an artist, and enjoyed arranging still lifes out of things lying around the house or yard. He would often take pictures, and later paint from the resulting shot. When he died at age 83, he had a stack of things he was still planning to paint, sculpt, arrange, plant or restore.

This shot was taken on the front porch of 60 Lincoln, their home for over 50 years. It was a place of refuge and comfort for me, and I was familiar with every nook and cranny. It was the only place in my life that ever truly felt like home.

Many of the items in this picture can be found scattered around my house, including the table, which sits on my front porch.

Comments

[langging.livejournal.com]

home... :)

[myasma.livejournal.com]

...is where the heart is.

[barebspool.livejournal.com]

It's very good to look back at where we came from and to stay in touch with it

[niyabinghi.livejournal.com]

I have a fondness of pics of still lifes taken around the home. Hope to see more, that's nice.

[myasma.livejournal.com]

He was very proud of the potatoes he grew. I know there are at least a few potato still-lifes somewhere. He used to mail them to me. He's been gone almost 15 years now, and some days I miss him so much.

Rocking chair.

[etroutski.livejournal.com]

Jerry Jeff Walker wrote a song about his Grandfather? Remember it? It is one of my all time favorites.
From memory (may be slightly altered from original)


There's an old rocking chair
Casting memories every where
On that old home porch across from Tipple's Store
I can see where the arm is worn
Where my granddaddy rested his arm
And rocked me in that rocking chair that don't rock no more.

I was born in a broken home
I was blinded by things gone wrong
I had no vision of what the future held in store
Just a baby barely three when my granddaddy came to me
To rock me in that rocking chair that don't rock no more.

Now granddaddy lived the Christian way
Truth and goodness he portrayed
He loved to gather his thoughts as he rocked on that hardwood floor
He loved to sit and rock
payed no attention to the time on the clock
And rocked me in that rocking chair
That rocks no more.

If a rocking chair could read the thoughts in people's minds
Oh the stories it could tell time after time
All the stories others never hear
And the thought one holds so dear
As he rocks me in that rocking chair that rocks no more.