I am going to digress a little here and throw this picture out for you. This is my mom and dad in one of our mobile homes. Isn't my Dad handsome? You can see why my mom fell for him. Why she was willing to leave the town she had known all her life and take to the road like some big adventure. My dad liked her from the minute he laid eyes on her, with her dark auburn hair and clear blue eyes. He called her "Chauncey" in the early days because of her Irish heritage. She didn't know how to make fried chicken or gravy when they met but it became two of her best known treats. This is Christmas, 1956. Micki in the middle and my what a look she wears. Kevin, fat and sweet, with his bright red hair and baby blues...and me, a bit older than my granddaughter is now.

I look at this picture and can remember my mom in those clothes. The pants were lime green. She always wore those little embroidered slippers. I see the family resemblance there as although their coloring is much different, I see so much of my youngest child in her.

Seeing this picture, coming across it today, made my heart sing. I hope we don't stop taking pictures although I fear many families have all but stopped. I'm guilty of it, too. I guess what I really mean is I hope we don't stop printing pictures....this and a cup of coffee took over my morning. It was good.