That is me being held by my Daddy the policeman and my sister standing.
We lived in a housing project in Marietta called the Clay Homes. I look about 2 or 3 years old in the picture. I was born in 1941, so that must have been about 1943 or 1944, about the time I started smoking.
I am always interested in how the nature of housing projects has changed over time. I bet you'd be hard pressed to find a cop living in such housing these days, which is too bad. A mix of neighbors always makes a place more livable.
ReplyDeleteSuzanne,
ReplyDeleteInteresting, Daddy didn't let his profession get in the way of being neighborly. I remember a neghbor, Mr. Hanson would make Mrs. Hanson sit out in a raining lightening storm hoping she would struck by ligthening. tch tch.
And upstairs, a Mr. McBrayer stayed hid until the war ended. All the neighbors knew he was AWOL from the service. He later made a career of the Air Force.