I recently received a package from my parents, and in it my dad included some old photos. It's high time I taught a little history lesson.
A few points of note: When I was small, everyone said I looked like my dad, but without the beard. But little Jimmy looks just like little Andrew. Now I know where we got our propensity to squint. Also, notice the other weird resemblance of: Young Uncle Joe to Young Gez Samuel, Grandma Harriett to Julia Louis-Dreyfuss, Grandpa Floyd to Jake Gyllenhal, and Grandpa Duane Nicol to Future Uncle Bob.
In about 1894, Duane was born. And so was Hattie.
And they grew up.
And got married.
They had three kids, Frank, Harriett, and Joe, and they all lived in southern Wisconsin.
Meanwhile, in 1923, Floyd was born in the great city of Chicago.
As fate would have it, Duane, a minister, was called to serve a Congregational church...in Chicago. The family moved to Watson Park and provided support and warmth to the needy during the Depression.
Then, when World War II started, Floyd joined the Air Force.
When he got back, he married Harriett.
They bought a white house with a blue roof in the cozy little suburb of Villa Park.
And had four little Baby Boomers: Lonnie, Bobby, Jimmy, and Les (a bit later).
They did all sorts of things together, like go to the beach,
Hike,
Play jokes,
Commit unidentifiable naughty acts,
And pose for stock photographs to be used in advertisements.
Jim grew up to be a handsome pianist in a blue three-piece suit.
And he married Jenny (center), who, along with Harriett (upper left) and Floyd (right), enjoyed teaching young children vulgar hand gestures at parties.
And the rest, as they say, is history. The end.