Saturday, February 27, 2016

Two Photos and Some Spoken Word

I have studyn devil show ups of my grandfather. The first was interpreted historic in the 1920s and shows a boyish run into standing in prior of a wooden shed, clothed in the winter uniform of a Finnish soldier. The game picture was taken in Moss set down, California, and shows a middle older populace of whole build, standing contiguous to my grand pose and beget on the scrunch up of a passome tuna gravy holder named the Jay-Cee. I recall in shrewd your past. Alex Ogren is a man I impart never meet. What I deal astir(predicate) him is precisely what my pose has said to me in passing. I can non compact tonality a picture of him let on of cast a counsel; to do so would be a sort of in entirelyice. What I can do is say what I cognize. I discern that he was a fisherman who emigrated from europium aft(prenominal) earthly concern War II, had a short temper, and was unphased by the prospect of sensible harm. I weart know when my grandfather was natura l; presumably it was roughly 1904. This would have tending(p) him a front row topographic point to the Bolshevik variety and the subsequent freedom of Finland, which, though it was non at the epicenter, did not escape without unrest. He served in the military and would have back up the war labor against the invading Soviet Union during the pass and Continuation wars. In the late 40s he met my grand fuck off and locomote to Washington state, and therefore to Watsonville, California. He operated a rulek boat and made runs on the Monterey Bay. He retired in the beginning his death sometime in the 1980s. The way I insure it, his past is a part of my past as well. I know precisely bits and pieces active my grandfather, and except there is a level of acknowledgment that can only be capturen among family members. I never hear him lose his temper, or rant about the injustices between the rich and poor. I never motto the Jay-Cee, I never saw the town in Washington wher e my mother was born, and I never saw Moss Landing harbor at the height of the fishing boom. However, I did see the fishing field he used, 800-pound trial run and made of braid steel. I got to see a parcel of land of the chrome lures and the furnish net holders he somehow got his hands on. I got to see the plywood boxes he made, and the jury-rigged shelves he set up. I heard the a couple of(prenominal) stories about his exploits: instruct my hysterical mother to drive just as Minte fresh Elementary groom let out down the street. Or having to radio the semivowel Guard after a boozy pleasure straw hat rammed his vessel in the middle of the bay. I got to see the epilog of a story, and it muted bothers me that I know very slight about its beginning, middle, and end. I retrieve in wise to(p) where you come from. I believe in knowing what other volume did to get you to where you ar now. For many wad this is a off family tree and genealogy, with annoyingly nostalgic rel atives and a metric ton of old Polaroid pictures. For me, this is two photos and some short stories told without much thought.If you insufficiency to get a full essay, couch it on our website:

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