Black and Tan

First - I have no *logical* business doing this however..... I am going to do THIS. I might be crazy, there is a really good possibility. My main goal, is to get back to writing daily. If I can get back to writing half way decent, daily - I will be thrilled. So here it goes.... I am already behind, gotta love it.

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Also - it's going to be HEAVY on the Grandpa Joe, as he just passed away and funeral is this Saturday. I think I am writing more for therapeutic purposes, luckily, my family (combined with my imagination) gives me/inspires a wealth of material to write about.

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Black and Tan


He is a young boy from Dubois, Pennsylvania and the picture I hold in my hand shows him holding a cat in his. The backdrop is a standard 1930’s neighborhood and he looks somewhere between seven and ten years old. His small, pale, peach tinted hands so similar to my own that even though it’s a black and white photo I can still see the similarities in our skin tone.


His parents met in front of the Met life building in New York City, both were children of Irish immigrants and his mom had red hair, just like mine. I would be the only red head in the family for thirty eight years until my newest niece was born seven months ago and to our surprise and my profound delight it looks there will be another member of the red head club inside the McGee clan. I can feel the pride he felt when he noticed my red hair every time I look at my niece and see the reddish fuzz growing atop her head. Only time will tell if it will continue into long red hair that she will hate as a child and adore as an adult.


His dad, John, was a snake charmer and wild man constantly pushing the envelope. Though I have never seen any photos, I can imagine what he looks like. In my mind he is one of those buff, handsome, dark haired, pale skinned, 1920’s boxer type guys like Russell Crow in Cinderella man. Isn’t the imagination a wonderful thing? I know this can’t possibly be true from looking at the build of my Grandfather and his brother Jack, both with the same frame of a string bean. My father, most uncles and my brother would have this same exact build until their thirties. I imagine my nephew will have this same body shape as well but at age seven he walks with the bravado of John Wayne as only the big brother of two little sisters would, always keeping an eye on them, making sure they are safe. Ahh, family loyalty, you won’t find a group of people more loyal to their family than this crazy bunch, almost to a default and more loyal than a dog.


I am sure Great – Grandpa John was loyal as well, that’s the great thing with no documentation of our past. If there is an unknown, we can simply make it up. Surely, Alice, his wife had a list of likes and dislikes a mile long. Don’t all women? We know she didn’t cook well from the stories my dad tells. Her signature dish was boiled ground beef. John died from a snake bite so apparently he hadn’t built up a complete resistance. I heard the snake story when I was a teenager and too this day I get a major case of the creeps when I see a snake on TV or a picture of one. To see one in real life makes me want to run in the opposite direction.


So Alice packed up her two sons, Jack and his younger brother Joe placed them and their belongings in the car and headed west. For months, during a harsh winter, they lived in an abandon warehouse that was in close proximity of a farm. The brothers McGee were good for the most part and enjoyed sneaking through Mr. and Mrs. Clinton’s property. Sunday was their favorite day to visit the farm. The smell of fresh, baked bread wafted out of the kitchen window teasing and tormenting the brother’s noses. The fact that she baked two loaves helped the ethical dilemma, in their minds when they only took one of the loaves. They ate that bread for the rest of the week and the smell of fresh baked bread was always one of Grandpa’s favorite smells.


While Alice worked and the boys attended a local school, she was able to save up enough money to pack up the boys and belongings to head further west to sunny San Diego. They arrived in a San Diego suburb named Lemon Grove, and attended schools in the area. Jack, at some point, moved to the Del Mar area and Joe went into the United States Navy as a Seabee. Upon his return from duty, he met and fell in love with Theresa Lemere a transplant from Duluth, Minnesota.


Theresa had sharp cheekbones, beautiful soft eyes and a smile that would light up a room. She moved from Duluth to San Diego at a time when a doctor prescribed a warmer climate as part of a diagnosis for any popular ailment at the time. Opposite of Joe, she came from a large family and relished in taking care of her younger brothers and sisters. Though she found advances for women exciting, she knew in her heart that she was always meant to be a mom of many children. Little did she know, she would give birth to ten children and raise several grandchildren.

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