There's a bonus in all this de-cluttering I'm doing since I met the Fly-lady. I'm finding old photos and keepsakes I thought I'd lost, pitched in dresser drawers amid underwear and years-old canceled checks. One picure was of Gerald, the cousin whose mom thought he was dying in 1938 (click here for the entry). He was less than two years old here, so this was probably about what he looked like at that time.
Below is another treasured picture, wrinkled and in poor shape. But it's the only photo Cliff has of the motorcycle he owned when he was eighteen or nineteen. I'm hoping my daughter, who works in a photo lab, will make a couple copies of this (catch the hint, Rachel?). Cliff carried it in his billfold for years, his only reminder of that beloved Harley; it was repossessed when his parents took bankruptcy. The little boy is his cousin, Ricky.