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| Sunday, August 17, 2003 |
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Gone fishing 
| | This last week, while I've been hanging out with my Mom in hospital rooms, I've also been going through boxes of old photos and scanning them into a laptop. The shot above is my favorite. It's from around 1943, about four years before I met her, when she was working in Alaska, where she also met my father. (Today, coincidentally, is their 57th anniversary.) |
| | What's funny about this picture (aside from the cute torn hat) is that Mom has never fished in the entire time I've known her. Fishing was Pop's thing. But Mom's always had that smile. Still does, in fact. |
| | Which will keep me smiling all the way back home to California today. |
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