Joseph Nathan/North Bank of the St Joe
There are so many things that speak to me about this picture; yet I am almost helpless to comment. She was typical of all his babies, blond, blue eyed and beautiful. Yet she's out of place here in his lap, as most women were when they were with him on the St. Joe. He was a completely different person then as the Joe was his emotional and spiritual home, open to only a few. Typically it was his sons that were invited in but on this day, she of dimples and sweetness sat on his throne. Now days, she is a grown up girl's girl who loves pretty dresses and party shoes but says just the same that this picture proves that the St. Joe is in her blood.
We all feel the same; besides the AT&T stock he inherited from his father my dad's legacy to us was the cottonwoods and meadow grass, the high, fast, muddy water of Memorial Day, the huckleberries and the apples, the woodpeckers and hummingbirds and the fish, elk and deer. On the Joe, my dad was man of immense means and we benefited from a largess of clarity and spirit among pine trees and splashing streams as we tramped up and down the mountainsides of the St. Joe River.
You don't see tractors like these too much any more and you sure don't see the ingenuity that would place a plastic bucket on the exhaust stack to ward off rust. I miss my dad but I am rich, rich, rich in what he left here with me and in what he took with him when he left.
The 'Kan EWA