We did get up in time to go to the folks’ place, and then go together to the elementary school just across the school playground, which begins on the other side of the street from our house, to the east. I took some snapshots, and to our surprise, one of the local radio/TV stations ran a short piece also on Father’s receiving the medals for his WW II service in the Army. (They have his age wrong, and also, I expect, how many years after the war/how late he has received them.) I noted in the article/video that my father stated, he did not care to be interviewed.
It was nice to see everyone again. I ran into some family friends and some folks with whom I attended school in the home town.
Since I had my camera along, I took time to take some photographs of the main upstairs living area while it still is as I remember it. I believe I was in sixth or seventh grade before Mother drew up house plans for the upper part of the house; for the first years, we lived in a “basement house” with a large, green door and wooden walkway and hand railings with steps leading to it. Somewhere I have a photograph of me and Mother, herself with a snow shovel in hand and both of us dressed for winter, clearing the way of mounds of snowdrifts.