I love this photograph of my grandpa and my Dad as a wee little thing. This was taken only a few blocks from where I live now. I remember believing that my parents grew up in a world without color.What were we supposed to think? Looking through photo albums filled to the brim with black and white. But that’s a side note.
My grandma loves this photo because of the coats that both of her boys are wearing. At the time, the family didn’t have a lot to spend on good winter warmth, so grandma vranic sent out to sew her boys some coats. My Dad, or “little Timmy”, as grandma affectionately calls him, couldn’t WAIT to match with his Daddy. Grandpa’s coat was finished first, and “Timmy’s” was sewn from the leftovers. The morning that the miniature coat was all stitched up, my Dad happily skedaddled down the hall, pulling on socks and boots, rummaging for mittens, and waiting impatiently by the front door for his lunch to be bagged, two hours early for school, all so he could be ready to walk out that front door with his Dad as he left for work. A dashing pair, in matching coats cut from the same cloth.