I am down in Mississippi visiting my Dad and Step Mom. It's always strange for me to be down here because, despite the fact that my Father is from here, I feel no connection. The Weaver side of the family has lived in Eastern Mississippi for generations. My Dad broke that chain when he went into the Navy and left the sweltering, kudzoo-covered life down here to see the world. He eventually came back home, but none of his children have ever followed him here.
My Dad's living room is filled with pictures of his kids, grandkids and Betty, my Step Mom's children. I found this photo of my older sister and me taken when I was about one or so. My Dad told me that it was taken shortly after I had my first haircut given to me by a barber that had cut my Dad's hair, his Dad's hair and his Dad's hair. Four generations of Weaver hair had fallen under this guy's scissors. I wish I had a photo of him.
OK HW