If I’d had my wits about me when I made my mad dash to the Plum this morning, I’d’ve tried to get a sneaky pic of two of the Plum guys silhouetted against a gorgeous rising sun. They had gone outside to take a gander and were talking about what a beautiful day it was. But although I stopped in my tracks for a moment, I was focused on getting in there, getting my grocks, and getting out. I am probably the fastest u-scan operator in the Great Lake State although I do sometimes get ahead of myself and confuse it and have to call for help 🐽

Instead you get this one of Jesus. He’s at St. Joseph’s Church parking lot in Sault Ste. Siberia and it was March and we were up there to clean out my parents’ safe deposit because PNC was closing their bank branch up there and I didn’t want the contents to end up in Cheboygan. I took a walk from the Hotel Ojibway up to my childhood house on Superior Street and to return downtown, I followed the route I used to walk / bike from my house to my grandparents’ house or my friend Helen’s. And that took me through St. Joe’s parking lot. And there was Jesus Christ himself blessing the crappy March snow piles.

While we were emptying the safe deposit box, the bank manager came along and said, “There are pictures of your grandfather in the basement. Do you want them?” Well, sure I do! (The bank manager was the daughter of my mom’s next door neighbor. She landed on her feet at another branch and is now happily retired and married to her second husband.)

My grandfather was the bank president when I was a kid (it was the First National Bank then, not PNC) and my dad was making his way up through the ranks from assistant teller to (eventually) president. When I visited them at the bank it was always fun to wander around behind the tellers’ windows and into the vault and I LOVED when my dad brought an adding musheen home. Fun times!

The second pic is my favorite from outta that basement, well maybe except for my young father hobnobbing with some Lovely Ladies at an xmas party. I remember this kid-sized teller window well because it’s where I deposited little bits of money into my savings account. This is my kindly bank prez granddaddy in a publicity photo serving some young ladies at the kid teller window. My granddaddy WAS VERY kind to most people and especially to children. I was a direct recipient of his love and kindliness. According to The Commander, who lived with my dad at my grandparents’ house for a short period of time after they married, his voice became cold when he was calling to make collections.

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