Depending on what province we find ourselves residing in, or, our place of employment, we do or do not get to officially call today, the third Monday of February, Family Day.
Their names are Seth, Clara, Slyvia, Stanley, Florence, Fanny, Forest, Alvin. The one in the upper left is my grandfather, the oldest of the bunch. The two in white are twins. Violinist today, plays the fiddle which belonged to the littlest twin. Aren't they adorable? Here they are again, fall of 1896, some with babies of their own. My grandfather is now the one rebelliously grinning in the center. Not supposed to do that. Their mother, the lady in the center, once chased off a "hobo," who foolishly entered her kitchen while she was in it. "Anybody see me come in?" he asked. "No. An' nobody's going t' see you leave, neither." She whirled around picking up a butcher knife to emphasize her point. I'm surprised she didn't take him out with just the skirts.
Among some of her belongings which I have is a book with her love notes - this is one of them, a tiny pocket Bible belonging to her father - John Campbell, the cable from Missouri informing her a son died and a huge wooden mixing bowl. I often wonder when I look at that bowl, what it has seen.
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