In honor of this post, I thought I would post this picture of my dad when he was a little boy. He grew up in the Cedar-Riverside and Seward neighborhoods of Minneapolis (where the Swedes lived).
This picture hung on the hallway down to the basement in our house; I've always loved it for its uniqueness -- it just seems like such a slice of life, in so many ways. And I love for for what I don't know about it -- I really don't know much about the story behind this picture.
There's my dad, carrying this dog up the sidewalk. It's probably somewhere near downtown Minneapolis in the 1930s. I know that my dad liked dogs. He told me once that he brought a dog home that he had found somewhere, but it cried all night and his parents made him take it back where-ever he found it.
But this was not that dog. That dog was a Lab. The dog in this picture was not his dog. I don't know why he was carrying it. I don't know what happened to it. I don't have any idea who took the picture (except that no one from the family took the picture).
I also love this picture because it's from a disappeared time and place. My dad used to tell me on occasion that the house he grew up in didn't exist any more. It was torn down, as was part of his neighborhood, when Interstate 94 was built. I don't think I appreciated what it meant to him to know that his past had been torn down, bull-dozed, was just GONE.
Since this is a picture without a story, and in honor of my 700th post, I'd love if, again, creative people would suggest a caption for this. Also, any speculation you might have about this picture would be fascinating to me.
P.S. There will be a prize, but I don't know what what it will be.