There are so many things I love about these photos of my brother and grandfather. They are so physically similar - photos of my grandfather at younger ages look like Mark dressed up in old-timey clothes - and clearly there is some like-mindedness in the fashion featured here, both with tube socks so carefully coordinated to their outfits. They define kindred spirits, physically and temperamentally.
But what I love the most about these photos is how perfectly they capture Bumpa’s pure enthusiasm for whatever activities caught his grandkids’ interests. Want a tree house? He built one, complete with a spring-loaded pine cone cannon. Want to learn how to use a lathe? Let’s make a floor lamp together. Want to ride in the back of the pickup truck? Just don’t tell your mom, and it’s probably better if you don’t sit on top of the wheel well while we do donuts in the cul-de-sac. You’re braiding pine needles? Okay, sure. Fishing, BB guns, lake swimming, pontoon boating, singing, Hungry Hungry Hippos, reading Lowly books. The man was the Platonic ideal of grandfatherhood, he smelled like sawdust and sunshine, and I miss him so much.
Bumpa and Mark (by MsAnneThrope)
