This weekend, mom and I undertook another episode of "Organizing Piles of Shit."
We have a ton of photographs from our old house (we moved about five years ago) as well as many from the estates of three of my grandparents. (When I say "estates," I mean "closets.") So last week I was reading a local calendar in the paper, and there was an item on genealogy, and I remembered my mom was working on our family tree. So I proposed the idea, and she accepted. Or shrugged. Whatever.
The first batch was from our family mostly, and I unearthed some greats:
I had that deer-in-the-headlights look even back then.
Always an exhibitionist.We also found some of my parents, in what was a weird "Wow. They had a life before me." moment.
My dad, on a ship somewhere, looking pretty cute.
We also found some evidence of hotness way back in the genes.
My grandpa, left, was quite the guy, huh?
Grandma Ruth was a totally betty, and always stylish.
All in all, not a bad way to spend a Saturday. It may be even better than a family tree.
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