Uncle Jack
Today I’m making another trip to the Texas panhandle.
Another of my dad’s siblings has died and I’m off to the funeral. This brother’s children were the cousins closest to my age. I found this picture of us the other day and sent it to his daughter. I told her I’d give a lot of money to know what we were thinking–she wrote back that it was sort of scary given that her brother was holding a gun. 
I think this picture was taken in South Dakota when others in that family were farming up there in the 50s. They’d harvest their wheat “down south” and then haul their equipment 640 miles up Highway 83 to South Dakota to harvest up there. I remember getting behind some of those caravans traveling through the 2 lane roads in the sand hills of Nebraska. South Dakota natives “credit” us with bringing goatheads to the state in our tires. I don’t blame them for being mad.
My mom is barely visible in the background on the left and Dad and Uncle Jack’s oldest brother is the faded image on the right. I believe this picture was at his house–I have this memory of their house always being so clean and so cool, even in the days before air conditioning.
I am sorry to hear of your loss. Funerals are never a happy event, but they sometimes give us an opportunity to connect with family we have not seen in a while, and sometimes to share stories. Have a safe trip.
Janice