Here is another photo from our Bowness house.  The fellow kneeling in the front middle is Andy Anderson.  I was told, many years after this photo, that Andy was the first to parachute out of his plane at the D-Day invasion in 1944.  He was awarded that distinction because of his name, being first in alphabetical order. A rather dubious honor, but you can see that he made it through alive and well enough to drink beer at a house party a dozen years later.

That is me on my father’s knee.  You can see, by his clothing that he is now a civilian. There is a story that he went AWOL and was dishonorably discharged.  I’m skeptical of that story though, as he would likely have been in prison at this time instead of drinking beer with Andy Anderson. It seems more likely that he completed his stint and didn’t want any more of the parade grounds so he got out and took a civilian job.

It’s funny how some old memories can get sorted out by reality over time.  For most of my life I was under the impression that our house in Bowness was ours or that we at least owned the mortgage.  This party photo corrects my recollection.  The white haired gentleman seated on the left on the couch is Mr. Tuckwell.  He was the landlord.  Obviously you wouldn’t have a landlord if you were the property owner.  This realization shattered my belief that, at the very least, our family started out on the right path towards a moderately prosperous and ‘normal’ future.  But we were, in fact, just ‘renters’.

The young woman holding my sister on her knee was ‘the wicked babysitter’. She was quite mean but at least she had nice hair.  You can see that my evil sister hates the wicked babysitter, who is impervious to the disdain, as they both stare at the bird poo on Mr. Tuckwell’s shoe. And the fellow with the hair buzzed to the scalp on the sides must have been a time traveler from today, because that is the same hair doo that many of the young guys have right now.

BTW, who wears white socks with black oxfords? Time is funny, isn’t it.