Mom's In Love With A Sexy-genarian

My mom married my dad long before she knew of Tom Selleck but I think it is more than fair to attribute the longevity of their union to facial hair, corduroy shorts, and the Detroit Tigers.  Ever since I've known her, my mom has had what ultimately amounts to a fervent, yet extremely-chaste, crush on Thomas Magnum.

Who's my real father???

Doppelganger-status might be debatable but remove your glasses and
stand back from the computer screen - the tousled locks, crinkly-twinkly
eyes, and push-broom mustache and maybe, just maybe...

It's all in the eye of the beholder, I guess!
Anyhow, can you say that your parents are Tom Selleck and Tammy Wynette?
I didn't think so.

This past Saturday marked the 60th birthday of my dear, old dad.  People kept referring to him as a "sexagenarian" - only giving credence to my long held suspicion that we might have some Armenian heritage...

Based on the husky-framed fellow in the middle, is there any
question as to where I get my solid stature and sense of style?

Sixty is a milestone birthday for anyone; for reasons I've discussed before, it was a huge marker for my dad because honestly, he gave us plenty of opportunities to wonder if he'd make it this far.  To honor the occasion, we thought way outside the box and had a birthday party in his honor.

A tradition of "tablescapes" was established long ago in our house.
Becoming infamous for my impossible, impractical place settings,
I went with a scheme of silver, gold, white and tonal turquoise.

I love using coordinating candy; this hardcore, dollar-
store shopper found the perfect tins at the 99 Cents Store!
A gold-framed portrait of my pop was set at every place.

In fact, pictures of my dad abounded on every available surface!

To team with the theme, I made a subtly-ombre (give me a break, dividing batter
into even thirds and trying to deepen the color with each step is tricky) cake using
the family recipe for triple-decker coconut cake.

As with all of my bright ideas in baking, it tasted much better than it looked!

Learning a lesson from last year, I placed long-lasting taper candles in the cake;
it takes us a long time to get through our birthday anthems and blow out the candles!

I think we caught him mid-huff...

His dolphin-shorts days are long behind him.  He may not go to Rick's.  He may not have any cool, helicopter-piloting friends named T.C.  He may not be on the payroll of Robin Masters, or drive a Ferrari, or live in Hawaii, or capture the bad guy, or...  Alright, alright, he's no Magnum P.I.  He's better!!! 

Happy Birthday Pop!  Here's hoping we can torment you for another sixty years!

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Post-Mortem Family Photos

I feel so lucky that my parent's home has sort of become the informal repository for a large measure of the family history archives.  Paging through innumerable albums and digging through boxes of letters, greeting cards, documents, and assorted ephemera provides me with an endless amount of well-intentioned time wasting.  It never fails that I brave their garage in order to find some useful tool and instead end up waist-deep in a genealogical avalanche of my own making - ours is less a family tree and more a family quicksand pit.

I find it all fascinating but take particular interest in the photos.  It is wonderful to see pictures of one's grandparents as school children.  It is hilarious to see one's parents as awkward teenagers.  It is in equal measure interesting and unsettling to stumble across a picture of an unknown and distant relative only to realize that he is the genetic explanation for one's crooked teeth and nose.  It is even more disturbing to discover a picture of one's great-great grandfather as he lie peacefully in his coffin with a spray of calla lilies trembling on the verge of their own demise.

Hiya, Gramps!  Not feeling too well, huh?

Even better than the photograph, is the fact that it was turned into a postcard - ostensibly
as a souvenir for the mourning friends and family who were unable to attend the funeral.

Is it better or worse do you think, the obviousness of his condition in this photograph rather than the slightly earlier photos of the Victorian-era bodies lovingly propped up into startlingly-lifelike positions and situations?  "Be damned cholera, this husband and wife loved to recite the works of Shakespeare by lamplight," they seem to say from beyond the grave.  It is all so delightfully ghastly.

I never considered my family particularly macabre but we grew up with several reminders of death around the house, including this little gem.

"At Rest"
This Victorian coffin plaque/casket plate continues to hang on the bath...er, restroom door.
I definitely come by my appreciation for the absurd honestly.

Do you have any family photos of this nature?  Do they spook you or intrigue you?  However you feel about post-mortem photos, we hope that you have a picture-perfect Halloween!

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny