I went to a funeral yesterday (less than an hour to yesterday at the moment, but still yesterday), for my great-uncle. But I don't want to discuss the funeral, or his death, not right now--what I want to look at for the moment is the young man I never knew.



This is a picture of a picture, so it's not the clearest jpg in the world, but I just love this shot. This is my great-uncle and my grandmother, probably just after WWII when my great-uncle got back from the Navy. Neither was dressed up for this photo, these were just the clothes they were wearing on a typical day (I told my grandma I could see her toes, she explained that she was just shameless *grin*). I'm not sure precisely what it is, but there's something honed about both of them--perhaps the result of several years of war and the aftermath of the Depression. They both seem polished in a totally unintentional way. Or maybe that's just my own level of bullshit I'm bringing to the photo, it's a tough call. Doesn't change that it's a great photo.

FAT (which is what we called him) was in the Navy, as I mentioned. Grandma commented that she though the guys were examined and if they were in good shape sent to the Marines or the Navy, and if not so good shape sent to the Army (*grin*). I think maybe my grandfather was in the Army, though I'm not sure--he was in the war too, I know. Anyway, one version of the story goes that FAT was asked which he wanted, Marines or Navy, and he replied "Navy. The food is better there." I don't know a lot about that time in his life: I know at one point the ship he was on broke down and wound up in Africa (Liberia, I think) for repairs--he has some bookends at the house from Africa, tribal heads carved out of some black wood or stone (honestly don't know what, I've never touched them). He also wound up traveling around numerous places in eastern Europe, probably with an eye toward insertion points for attack but such is war--I have no idea where this picture was taken (again, a crappy VGA photo of a photo, but it gets the idea across):



It may be silly, but I get a kick out of seeing this man as a lot the same as many of my friends--just a regular guy who may have been as likely to sit around with his friends drinking a beer as anything. (Come to think of it, I think I remember that when I was too young to appreciate it he experimented a bit with homebrewing.) It's sort of a shame that these sorts of epiphanies (or even questions) only come after someone is dead, isn't it?