Tempus fugit

I hope I'm not being maudlin, because I don't feel that way.  I really have been spending a lot of time going through old papers and photographs, and am a little preoccupied with the past.

Daddy died 27 years ago today, and he's as alive in my mind as if it were only yesterday that I saw his sweet smile and heard his voice.

It's a peculiar thing with old photographs: I was staring at this picture and it for a minute it looked just like my brother Mac did at that age, then it shifted and I saw William.  A moment later it morphed again and the smile was Mary Catherine, my niece's. 

Grandmother and Daddy

Every summer, my grandmother and her mother and sisters and all the children and some of the help would move up to their summer home in Hendersonville, North Carolina, to escape the stifling south Georgia heat.  The menfolk were left behind in Valdosta, to work and swelter. I have a lot of the wonderful letters exchanged between my grandparents during these periods of separation.

Here is an excerpt of one written by my grandmother when Daddy was about 5 years old:

"The children have had a lot of fun tonight.  They dressed Emily Attaway [a child in the neighborhood] up as a bride, with a long train, flowers, etc., and had Jr. for the groom.  They paraded up and down the street and were simply darling.  They would hug and kiss ever so often like they were crazy about each other.  I don't know what we are going to do with Jr., he is so affectionate.  Like his Dad."

The Jr. she's talking about is Daddy.  

Speaking of affectionate, I love the way she ends her letter: " Well, I bid you a goodnight, my darling, with a goodnight kiss, for I love you so"