This photo is of a "book" that was apparently created by my mother, Lois Baker, as part of her unsuccessful effort to woo a man named "Forrest Altman"-- a man who apparently broke her heart and catapulted her into the willing arms of my father. It was probably done about 1945 when she was 20 years old. There are no names in the book and the person for whom she created it either didn't accept it, didn't want it or never received it. There is nothing wonderful about it-- in fact it is incoherent and random and makes no sense. She did keep it, however, so it must have been important to her and when I got it, from my sister Sybil at her Thanksgiving visit in 2012, I was touched simply to have it. The book was made by my mother's hand; she chose the text and cut out and pasted all the bits. There was even a scrap of net still attached-- impossible to tell what it was.
Here is another picture.
After searching my soul I decided that this is not something I should keep. It has no personal message, no meaningful content (at least now, at least 67 years after it was created) and most of all it is not something with which to burden my daughters. So, with a pang of sadness it has gone into the recycling bin-- better somehow than the rubbish barrel.
