This picture is of a shop building built by my father circa 1955, which was crushed by a falling tree. I would have been around two years old when Dad built it. We moved from this place when I was around nine years old. Since we don’t own the property, I took this shot from the road.
I learned to ride a bicycle in the yard just to the right of the picture. And, somewhere in this picture, is buried a small glass jar full of change. If my sister didn’t go back and dig it up.
It’s not a big deal, I suppose. Just something else my Dad built, that’s now gone. Ike took it out with a gust of wind, using a big old oak tree for a hammer. My earliest memories are of this place.
Lots of other people lost everything. I reserve my sympathy for them. All I lost was a few days of convenience and some memories.