Speaking of photographs, last spring we went down to see my dad's cousins, both in their 80's, near the old family homestead in Colorado. I took all of the ancient photos and albums I have. Their mother, my dad's mom's sister, was committed to the state mental institution when they were quite young and lived there until her death in the 60's. It was something that was not talked about, from what I've gleaned.

I didn't know it, but the pictures I took down were the first ones they'd ever seen of her. They had no idea there were any. For the first time in their lives they saw pictures of her; as a young woman and of her and their dad, on horses, getting ready to go on their honeymoon on a pack trip in the Rockies.

It's pretty hard to describe the feelings I had when I watched those two very precious people in my life look with amazement and gratitude at pix of their mom. My only regret is that I didn't know who she was in the pix or I would've shared them years ago. Sure made my heart happy to see their faces and hear them talk about her, though. Of course, they now have copies of all of them.

Jerry, we always were singing in my family, with my parents and had lots of records, too. I have always been so grateful to my parents for making music such an important part of our lives. we all took music lessons, too.

One other thing dear to my heart is one of my dad's violins; I think it is the second one he had. It is a little over one hundred years old. I came home from school one day when I was about 8 and told my folks I had signed up to join orchestra and play the violin. From that day, I've had that fiddle. Had it repaired and the bow rehaired by an old fellow, now passed on, whose dad taught my dad how to fiddle and who made the fiddle my dad still plays.

kat