My first photo was actually of Frank. In 1924-1925 he traveled to San Francisco with a few friends. They took their photo next to a fake trolley car. He is the tall one in the center.
After cropping him out, I started to color him in with bright mismatched clothing. I hope he approves.
After that, I found my grandfather's Sophomore high school photo, and tweaked it.
Finally, my favorite. I just finished the wedding photo of my Great Grandparents.
In other news, my book isn't even finished yet, and already receiving reviews. Here is one:
And, it's time for a new sneak peek of chapter three, I once again wish to thank everyone that has read and reviewed my book so far. This novella means a lot to me since it's based on a true story. I know for a fact that Uncle Frank approves.
IN SEARCH OF FRANK MILLER: a semi-true ghost story
THE NEW SITUATIONWoodville, Oklahoma
I completed my first week at the service station laboring through menial tasks in the scorching Oklahoma sun where nightfall seemed distant, teasing, and out of reach. I honestly detested my new found job, but at the end of the week, Clinton reluctantly revealed both of his secrets to me, and I ended up escorting him on a dangerous journey across the Red River to Texas. We both needed the money that this mission would bring. Looking back over it, I should have seen the warning signs. But, when you're only twenty-one, and male at that, you think you're invincible. If I could go back and do it over again, and change a few things, would I? Of course not! I did the right thing. I made the right choice... even though it cost me my life.
When I arrived home from my first night at the service station, Mama grew extremely overjoyed when I told her the news of my sudden employment. In celebration she baked me a chocolate pie. Papa grunted his approval, and cut himself a large piece. He didn't say much after that. I guess he felt bad for that morning's lecture, but he would never tell me. All throughout his life, Papa kept quiet. He rarely spoke about anything. I don't know if it ran in the family. I never met my grandfather, him haven kicked Papa out of the family after I came along in 1905. Papa did allow me, and my siblings to be on speaking terms with my cousins, who happen to be the children of Grandpa's favorite child, Papa's older brother. I heard that one of them agreed to be pallbearer at my funeral. What a strange way to say goodbye to a person you grew up with.