Crazy Crap Item #91: The part where Jack finds a kindred spirit

I wrote before about how July 4th weekend was kicked off at 1500 Norwood. But I neglected to include an episode that occurred earlier in the afternoon.

As is well known, my neighbor, Jack, is a cowboy. I've previously reported supporting evidence here and here.

During yesterday's extravaganza, he was decked out in full cowboy regalia and entertained himself by reclining against the roots of a tree while twanging "Home on the Range" on an imaginary guitar. Like cowboys do, you know.

It suddenly dawned on my that he might enjoy seeing a photo of my father decked out in similar regalia. You see, my dad -- also coincidentally nicknamed Jack -- aspired to greatness on the range at about the same stage in life as neighbor Jack. And I have a photo to prove it. It's a wondrous, Depression-era photo of my dad, age 5 or so, clad in a plaid shirt, chaps, a holster, and a 10-gallon hat. He holds a six-gun aloft. I showed it to neighbor Jack's mom, Ann, and she noted that he seems all too aware of how cool he looks.

So I showed to Jack, and explained it was my dad when he was little. Jack's eyes grew big as saucers. He grasped the frame and, staring at it, muttered, "Does he have a real gun?" I suggested that it was probably just a toy. But look!, I said, he's got chaps and a holster! Jack added, awestruck, "And a lasso."

He held it in his hands for many moments, studying it, until James, his little brother reached for it. I turned it to him. James gazed at it puzzled, the jabbed my dad's photo with his finger. "Jack," he asserted. "Jack."

And he was right, in more ways than one.