Now that I've got this enabled, I can post items that seem to fit topics we've discussed at a2k. I'll try to add most of the scanned stuff to the appropriate threads. Meanwhile, I'll work on organizing.
In this case, the one thing I picked to scan - from the album closest to my desk - brings up letter writing, and kids getting around the city (in comparison to now.)
I'd like to see some resurgence of letter writing, if only with printed missives with at least some scribblings, but I've been poor at this lately myself.
This particular letter, dated in my mother's handwriting and written by my father, is near cruelly sweet to me. I was recently six. My mother and I, and sometimes my father, were living at my aunt's in west los angeles then (her husband had recently died, complicated story). He had, I think, recently obtained and culled the film and cut the flight sequences in Twelve O'Clock High and was next working at RKO Pathe in NYC, thus the letter.
I have to learn to downsize..
My parents had exceedingly tough older lives, but here they were 41 (father), 46 (mother) then, with plenty of hope and enthusiasm.
Sister M was Sr. Madeline Marie at St. Monica's, first grade.
Below is a photo of my father and me at our later residence in New York, but at the time of the photo, not living there yet; that was the visit before the move. I think the photo was taken by my mother with a Brownie. My father's camera was an Argus, unless a blow up shows differently - it is the one he carried around - which later became mine, and which was stolen from my first gallery by one of two cokeheads, gnashes teeth. Figuring that camera out was how I learned my beginnings in photography, not that I remember all that.
I'll likely not be quite so soupy again - it sort of fits with the album I've been trying to cull (how cull?), and my present mood.
Anyway, writing can be dear.