Pat and I just spent a long weekend in Chicago scanning pictures from our moms' boxes of pictures. We’ve been doing this for 6-9 months or so. I want to hear the stories behind the pictures before the memories get too worn.
We’ve been regaled with stories of G-men breaking into my great-grandparent Drees farm house in Northern Minnesota during prohibition, carting my Uncle Matt off the hoosegow, but not before my Great-Grandma Drees whacked a G-man with a cast iron skillet. Pat found out the history about her family trips to Marshall Field during Christmas with tea in the Walnut room. Her Mom went as a little girl. Pat and I can’t tell our children and soon-to-be grandchildren any family story unless we know it.
I remember going to the Garfield Park Conservatory when I was little. When I got older, I wondered if this was a “fatherly” thing to do or if something drew my Dad to the park. I scanned a picture album from my Dad which had pictures from 1938. Within the folder album, I found my answer, page after page of pictures of tropical plants from the Lincoln Park and Garfield Park conservatories. Little did my Dad know, but a few years later, he would get to see exotic plants up close. Maybe my gardening comes from my Dad. We decided to visit the Garfield Park Conservatory on our way home. What’s an extra couple of hours?
The conservatory’s azalea display opened this last weekend. There were families with little kids enjoying the plants and flowers. The kids darted around exploring all the new sights. For a moment, one of those little kids was me.