Looking through my mother’s diminutive childhood photo album with faded pink silk and threadbare embroidery, I came upon a sepia toned stamp-sized photo of a gentleman whose face was mostly smudged out. He was squatting next to a pudgy faced infant in a pretty dress holding a toy. That child was my mom, Prudence, at four years old and the man was her daddy, Harry. It was her birthday and Lora, Prudy’s mom, was mad at him and said goodbye to him for good, that very day, destroying all photos of him.
Even though Prudy and her father reunited much later in life, still, no pictures were ever taken. I met him, then, when I was a child, and I intuitively felt a gentle spirit. I attempted to search for information on Pappy and only uncovered a modicum of records but no photos could be found.
I really wanted a photo of my grandfather. Being an artist, I tried to reinvent the whole face from the blurry residual image and was fairly satisfied. Until one day our talented artistic photographer friend agreed to try her hand with modern capabilities. It took many stages of refinement to arrive at the final, enhanced in full color, photo. I don’t know how she did it, but it’s him! There he was, capturing perfectly his sweet demeaner, right out of thin air.
Thank you, thank you, Elizabeth G. Brooke
