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I found my father’s black-and-white high school graduation photo. He was trim and handsome with a thick head of hair. The photo had red coloring around his lips.

When I asked my mother what the coloring was, she told me it was her lipstick — that she kissed the photo every day while my father served overseas during the Korean War.

One of my favorite photos is a black-and-white photo taken of my dad’s father and mother at a Lake Erie beach in the 1920s.

My grandfather, who died way too young in 1937 at the age of 34, wore a swimsuit that had a top, as was the fashion of that time.

I bear my grandfather’s full name — Thomas James Purcell — as does my dad.

I always wished I got to meet him, as I heard many stories from other family members, now gone, who got to experience his generosity and humorous spirit.

My grandfather’s photo causes considerable pause because, I now realize, his time on this earth wasn’t so long ago.

When I was born in 1962, my grandfather would have been 59 — my age right now.

I know now that the years go by way faster than I ever anticipated — and that a typical lifespan is but a blip in time.

I remember as though it were yesterday what it was like to grow up in the 1970s — how can that be a half-century ago?

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Copyright 2022 Tom Purcell, All Rights Reserved. Credit: Cagle.com