Sunday, March 2, 2008

Every picture tells a thousand stories. Or something like that.

I've raided my grandmother's photo stash. I need to start scanning and saving this stuff for posterity, and it's currently just sitting in a drawer in her dining room, unfiled, unorganized, unnoticed.

Here are a few gems. Some of my favorites. I love photos of people in their youth with their whole lives ahead of them. Especially when they're family. Especially when I know so much of their stories.

But no one could ever know everything.

Great Grandpa McGuire, from his Yale 1909 yearbook:

His eventual wife, Eleanor Lynch, c. 1910 (she was much younger than he):

I left out the police report of her being found dead, having drunk herself to death in her Forest Rd. home in the early 50s.

Their son, my grandfather Paul McGuire (c. 1950). He was Grandma's husband:

Gaynor homestead, Co. Meath, Ireland (the house was eventually lost in a lousy bet at a local pub. Typical.):

Great Grandpa Gaynor (R), who immigrated here alone when he was 10, and his cousins the McGauley's at the house they built in Webster, MA (with Gypsy the dog, c. 1915):

Great Grandma Gaynor (second from L, top row), when she was still Mary Ellen Doyle, and her sisters and cousins in the roaring 20s:

**The Doyles were obviously a much more fun bunch.**

Grandma as a little Nancy Gaynor (c. 1932):

Grandma as a young hottie (c. 1947):

My mom (second from L) and her siblings, and Donnor the dog (1959):

My mom (third from L, middle row), her siblings and first cousins, 1965 (aka, the Wonder Years):

And just forgive me for this:

That's all for today.

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