Jean could probably still fit into the white (would we call that a jump suit?)but I can't suck my stomach in that far anymore to squeeze it into 29 inch waist cut offs. My hair looks about the same though. I had bought the 1969 Volkswagon for $450 to drive to Alaska. It made it.

















I can understand my mom having black go-go boots but me I don't know. Uncle Charlie (center) would have to have been about the same age in dog years as Jeannie and I were.




We always liked to play with the cowboy and Indian and horse figures that Gram had. I'm sure they belonged to our cousins Scott and Randall who had been living with Gram and Grandpa around this time.


I think this may have been the last time Jean wore a dress. I would ride this bike with training wheels when we visited Gram and Grandpa. I don't know who it belonged to. Jeannie's legs are longer now and do reach the pedals. Peck's Hill is in the background. The fields that cows used to graze on and alfalfa and corn grew are slowly reverting to their natural states now.





It looks like there was a toy conflict brewing. Jean probably remembers the outcome and the sleeping gown; she has a better memory than I do.









The garland and tinsel were foil and lasted year after year. We've had an artificial tree the past few years and it smells so, well artificial.











Jeannie, Grandpa, Johnny, and Grandpa's Ford Fairlane. Gram always took the pictures.














The bedroom where this photo was taken is now a walk-in cooler for a floral shop. The last time Ruth and the kids and I were in Great Barrington we stopped to take a look inside the floral shop at South Main Street and Silver Street. There was a service counter in what was our living room and the kitchen had been converted to their work area. The wide floorboards were still there but the large black iron grate in the center of the living room was no longer there.



Jeannie and Johnny with the Sno-ette on March 11, 1961. Jeannie would be almost 13 months old here. I probably was already beginning to terrorize her; surely I pushed her around on the Sno-ette with her screaming. At 50 years old now she still has to go out and run in the snow for hours to confront these early chilhood traumas.Who knows what I had planned with the snowball in hand.