New Market Oil Co.

Maynard and sons at his station in New Market. ©Maynard and Betty Ranum

This photo was one of my father’s favourites. He once told me it showed the essence of his family; a pack of busy, dirty, boys.

It is also one of my favourites, although one of the brothers is missing (iirc he was in the back room hiding in the tires.) It is the many details of the image which strike me, things which were important at the time. Dad’s 1776-1976 light in the window. The ever-so-stylish white belt. The Harley-Davidson motorcycle. The Farmington Yankees t-shirt. The milk crate by the pump used by short sons with short arms to wash windshields. The tires and the wiper blades display which had to be rolled out every morning and rolled in every night.

And, yes, the grease and the dirt.

This one is for Marcus.

Les travaux

Last-minute reprieve of the exceptionally unpleasant probabilities of working from nb4, the second-oldest of mes portables. Which means I have a reasonable computer, so I must work during the flight, and every evening.

And now I must quickly finish packing, call a cab, and get to the airport to spend the next four days mostly driving and sleeping at cheesy motels. Yay. Such a glamorous life.

Reminder to self: take pictures.

Smugness

Every so often you do something pretty minor but which gives immense satisfaction. Four nights ago I snuck over to the now-empty neighbour’s for-sale house and unscrewed the lightbulb left on 24/7 which shone on the bedroom window.