NFrameFred
Member
My wife's father passed when she was only 12, so I never got to meet him.
An American sergeant participating in the D-Day landings, he married an English girl ( a sergeant in the British army stationed in London) and brought his war bride back to West Virginia (talk about culture shock for a proper English lass) to start a family.
In the wife's stash of family possessions are his books which include a large number of Zane Grey western novels from the early nineteen thirties which I inferred he had had since a young boy.
No particular reason I never got interested in them, it's just my reading tastes run more toward historical and spiritual works, and when I read fiction it runs towards Tom Clancy, Lee Child, Clive Cussler, David Baldacci . . . so during a lull in anything new from my favorite sources I picked up one of her father's Zane Grey books and found (allowing for what they are and when they were written) I enjoyed it, so I've been going through several of them when I'm not caught up in something else.
Last night I picked up one I hadn't yet read and upon opening it found the below pictured pocket calendar from 1962 that had presumably been used as a book mark. In pristine condition and vibrant color I was led to share it. It makes me feel a connection to a man I never met, who put away a book at about 62 years ago when I was only 8 years old that we've both now held and enjoyed . . . and it's caused me to reflect on life, family, and the inexorable march of time.
Though some who know me may laugh at the idea that I sometimes think too much, at this age a lot of us begin to wonder if anything we leave behind might touch someone or mean anything in the future. We never know, so we should be careful what we leave behind.
Thought some might get a kick out of it so I share it here . . .
An American sergeant participating in the D-Day landings, he married an English girl ( a sergeant in the British army stationed in London) and brought his war bride back to West Virginia (talk about culture shock for a proper English lass) to start a family.
In the wife's stash of family possessions are his books which include a large number of Zane Grey western novels from the early nineteen thirties which I inferred he had had since a young boy.
No particular reason I never got interested in them, it's just my reading tastes run more toward historical and spiritual works, and when I read fiction it runs towards Tom Clancy, Lee Child, Clive Cussler, David Baldacci . . . so during a lull in anything new from my favorite sources I picked up one of her father's Zane Grey books and found (allowing for what they are and when they were written) I enjoyed it, so I've been going through several of them when I'm not caught up in something else.
Last night I picked up one I hadn't yet read and upon opening it found the below pictured pocket calendar from 1962 that had presumably been used as a book mark. In pristine condition and vibrant color I was led to share it. It makes me feel a connection to a man I never met, who put away a book at about 62 years ago when I was only 8 years old that we've both now held and enjoyed . . . and it's caused me to reflect on life, family, and the inexorable march of time.
Though some who know me may laugh at the idea that I sometimes think too much, at this age a lot of us begin to wonder if anything we leave behind might touch someone or mean anything in the future. We never know, so we should be careful what we leave behind.
Thought some might get a kick out of it so I share it here . . .
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