When I visited parents last week, my Dad pulled out a stack of photos I hadn’t seen before and we looked through them.
One was this photo, taken in 1949. My dad’s family moved from Colorado to Oregon in the summer of 1948, right before Dad started his senior year of high school. With the help of some neighbors, they built a new house on the farm Grandpa purchased.
In this photo, the men are pushing wheelbarrows full of cement to dump into the basement. Dad is the handsome young fellow on the end of the line to the left. My Uncle Bob (he married Dad’s oldest sister), is in the white shirt pushing a wheelbarrow.
I just loved this photo – not only for the history, but also for the artistic lines and contrasts.
Do any of you have a thing for old photographs?
