tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41791417803239447482024-03-13T11:11:52.354-07:00My GrandfatherThis man is my hero.JonMeyer42http://www.blogger.com/profile/04272296455222160055noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179141780323944748.post-31975381009863726892009-06-03T16:07:00.000-07:002010-08-09T16:31:21.345-07:00Old man's studio<!--StartFragment--> <img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0S_HKaCHfRvaHJqWKAPjzphR-q2C-siF3TBAwt2oI7LrutFl0M1ErK4U0WfCgpGko4ZJ7nRMlLAeY3_j8B5erXWWVOTJ5JEMi_V4QLTTtNtIPrFLU4EDfuGOM4O2v9CT_9NLayxxGh0pW/s400/grandfather_desk.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499840356112901682" /><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span><!--StartFragment--></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">This is my grandfather’s studio. There was a lot of stuff I didn’t understand and have never seen them before when we were kids. But if he got time, he will allow me to sit next to him to see the magic happen. When I was 10 years old, I stayed in his studio more often because he was teaching me how to use Morse code. It’s funny because we always used the code as the secret message to plan our secret mission behind my parents. My mom sometimes got angry just because she had not idea of what we are trying to do.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">He also taught me how to use the Internet to talk to the people from different places. I remember my name on the Internet station was ET-42. It’s kind funny, I usually just ask people’s name and what are they doing, and I would just ignore them and started play computer games. I believe I was the first kid in my school to use the computer with the something similar to the Internet. And I think that’s why I am doing what I am doing now. He really changed my life and opened my eye to see the possibility of the world.</span></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> <p></p> <!--EndFragment--> <div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>JonMeyer42http://www.blogger.com/profile/04272296455222160055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179141780323944748.post-6534364270078968702009-06-01T11:14:00.000-07:002010-08-09T16:31:06.031-07:00Ice cream time<div><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpAdy7mlZfF3rUNY9WjOvuZQm3zALtKZgMHqZPAe1zACxQeFV9GYuseLBGxkucPikUC9DyDaBD2Lpq-elJYgUwFn-jNg8IPVRxkBVzklIUy1G8XPMe5lR4fTd4apMf2GejobaNXZh5olBv/s400/icecream.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499842006091262242" /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">This was the ice cream that we always had. I was too little to remember what it tastes, but my older sis told me it comes with 4 different flavors and colors. My grandfather always came home with this asa treat. he always said "Ice cream time."</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>JonMeyer42http://www.blogger.com/profile/04272296455222160055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179141780323944748.post-75025711362949453312009-05-25T18:37:00.000-07:002010-08-09T16:27:05.690-07:00My first super 8 camera<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><!--StartFragment--> <img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 313px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGW7owVhBHZL4zW6xpL6AZxpAcpYtN4DMxlEbo289AYwLGlE_M_STVn3WEvdjfHfKaFCSEgEXiAzBwO_UukAECLh5NhHkI1yHPl28gpSeBlGrZKJ4VmpX8YybXpTIh3994vZYjXTG3yA_n/s400/me_and_my_first_super8_camera.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499839269182792642" /><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> <!--StartFragment--> </span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">This picture was from my 8</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">th</span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> birthday. Surprisingly, my grandfather bought me a super 8 camera as a gift. Even though I loved the toy truck that my mom gave me, the camera was just way beyond my imagination. How many kids at my age could have their own camera? It was amazing.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We started to go out more often and shot what ever we saw. Filming when we were fishing, walking on the train tracks and my sister climbing up and down the train, camping in the woods, and family gatherings. Everything looks better from the camera. (Of course, I was too young to worry about what I have to do after filming; my grandfather took care of it.)</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:medium;">I found some of the old film in his basement, and when I find a way to digitize them, I will upload them here.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuZUJiTFUf3riYmzToTiDUTZzsE5GFPRBcOgnXVMUUjl-oq_NbSrEUDbBpJPgExZbApapCNdSTLbKFV3zBImYzgLxx6IZDcSgonJIp3DPNkIJqcJ_JjOAppW9YpmSn16bAKw7lM7fwpfV5/s400/me_and_littlesis_on_the_train.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501059079636648274" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 232px; " /></span></span></p><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">This is photo was taken by my grandfather at the train track near my house, me and my younger sister always wanted to go just to see the old trains. We were always using the camera to play hide and seek. It was more fun than using our own eyes.</span></span><o:p></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment--> </span></span></div> <!--EndFragment--> </span><p></p> <!--EndFragment--> <div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>JonMeyer42http://www.blogger.com/profile/04272296455222160055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179141780323944748.post-48162102501167058772009-02-27T00:12:00.000-08:002010-08-10T05:09:16.453-07:00HIs packing box<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjQwljlufKmV5K2Yj7e1tk6pL14KMm59SA32DGdErrNcFm9Qfv937w_pTnsFw8jiANVYgDZYqSw9cQB-SEO6Ec2Rge4N1gM8hOoz0oF89LTJ9k12laTe91rf5js6Eo_tABSZWGQfANX6bm/s1600/all_02.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjQwljlufKmV5K2Yj7e1tk6pL14KMm59SA32DGdErrNcFm9Qfv937w_pTnsFw8jiANVYgDZYqSw9cQB-SEO6Ec2Rge4N1gM8hOoz0oF89LTJ9k12laTe91rf5js6Eo_tABSZWGQfANX6bm/s400/all_02.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503490861206224914" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxa4PdIJsphrLffo9L6UhsHAaQj8fwiiwLp2QULDSVpq2l3OAbaTPhLVecqnh1Gm0ZYso_Fv-ZhM_4QJo-0pV9yZ4rwqoYyZh_X6AJ5GI6nAE8EjZ5ZhWo9z_h3rQVF2HLsbl5e_lqUJEO/s1600/fan.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxa4PdIJsphrLffo9L6UhsHAaQj8fwiiwLp2QULDSVpq2l3OAbaTPhLVecqnh1Gm0ZYso_Fv-ZhM_4QJo-0pV9yZ4rwqoYyZh_X6AJ5GI6nAE8EjZ5ZhWo9z_h3rQVF2HLsbl5e_lqUJEO/s400/fan.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503490851696885042" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjchliufgQP_r6kw96OcsDBqISRRHOWv2fS2rKFzUy3CKmhHf0NM5o4PekCXTP0XEfWIa_vXYFKF-iV4H-CJD3MOHlhLoX3EDJq8xjnJ2fTOtaYT0gL3WYW0mxVUA8vYJJFr5Opg3Xqc6Ar/s1600/IMG_8727.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjchliufgQP_r6kw96OcsDBqISRRHOWv2fS2rKFzUy3CKmhHf0NM5o4PekCXTP0XEfWIa_vXYFKF-iV4H-CJD3MOHlhLoX3EDJq8xjnJ2fTOtaYT0gL3WYW0mxVUA8vYJJFr5Opg3Xqc6Ar/s400/IMG_8727.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503490847613930274" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuxuOV_sI7mTQ7vMagwLg7w7UZJqqBCpIapTO1klgZ_wplDxa38eGrRXdz5DQ6gsivvX_rdsD8yyQ6pHU7aPS6xnncJT930zQ5Q03ROnP0_RHfOLwpidLD4PTHZgareeOeq3YHpzPdpn5Q/s1600/IMG_8726.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuxuOV_sI7mTQ7vMagwLg7w7UZJqqBCpIapTO1klgZ_wplDxa38eGrRXdz5DQ6gsivvX_rdsD8yyQ6pHU7aPS6xnncJT930zQ5Q03ROnP0_RHfOLwpidLD4PTHZgareeOeq3YHpzPdpn5Q/s400/IMG_8726.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503490842557865954" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCdvVrZw18g07dMFD0xU42fDGjp2a1OVNTB9gK60NWVUii3hwrM4uDXq5benjCAYU2QsShMFEc0KIlDEFnyOFCw2g449mGlav11NZa_NV25eyGRMXRv55y05AVY-gu31IW3Ww7Oo_fREEC/s1600/IMG_8728.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCdvVrZw18g07dMFD0xU42fDGjp2a1OVNTB9gK60NWVUii3hwrM4uDXq5benjCAYU2QsShMFEc0KIlDEFnyOFCw2g449mGlav11NZa_NV25eyGRMXRv55y05AVY-gu31IW3Ww7Oo_fREEC/s400/IMG_8728.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503490835726249874" /></a><div><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I opened his another packing box, and these were what i found.</span></span></div></div>JonMeyer42http://www.blogger.com/profile/04272296455222160055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179141780323944748.post-7308754950618754782009-01-24T09:59:00.000-08:002010-08-09T16:26:29.215-07:00The magic box<!--StartFragment--> <img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 398px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBeG_aR2nUPGcVw3-gDmMepfOPACqXKTEMxepe4CR9pSVjT-OigL0lu60K2l6k3a_XC3kRXhf9CuiYOaNyCrDg2iif1PAwWcripljjoWIL-Vy_GHL-tyOqECZ3NtuR9eo-niJKAde89IGV/s400/themagicbox.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499838334798517762" /><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> <!--StartFragment--> </span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">One day, my grandfather brought back a magic box called “Tannen’s Magic Mystery box”. He said it’s a 15 dollars magic box where you can put 25 dollars magic tricks. I totally forgot what was inside but by looking at the picture I found, they are definitely fun. I do remember I was enjoying the mask on my face; I even wanted to have it on while eating my dinner. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> </span><p></p> <!--EndFragment--> <div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>JonMeyer42http://www.blogger.com/profile/04272296455222160055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179141780323944748.post-35927640470548423072009-01-12T16:43:00.000-08:002010-08-09T16:26:12.097-07:00The good news from the hospital<!--StartFragment--> <img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 311px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis7tliVMMKdOi-2G79aldLMX5GYp7SyaKbCAP_b8oLs18vum6Cyj4Nbtk5rK7_N2DEk86hdzF7wi_SzC7TFDJD181lDcA2fkl3_07z39u39A5or1ZY9mre06qbaV3fWnxKht317y6uY3xO/s400/grandfathers_postcard.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499837565690530290" /><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> <!--StartFragment--> </span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">During the time when he was in the hospital, our family was not allowed to visit him, which I think everyone knew why. I think it was because the failed mission from the train crash was top secret or something like that. I was so sad and worried about my grandfather that I couldn’t finish my dinners even though they are my favorite foods. So, he sent a postcard to me just to let me know he is fine and he is coming back soon. After that I was so happy because I know this time he is coming back forever. And I always want to eat more than I can just because I wanted to grow up faster. </span><o:p></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment--> </span><p></p> <!--EndFragment--> <div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>JonMeyer42http://www.blogger.com/profile/04272296455222160055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179141780323944748.post-89956167072721343012009-01-09T23:56:00.000-08:002010-08-09T16:25:57.491-07:00The letter "He is coming back"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiebD-J4GBzPz9rN6996m5JZdEl8H-nSEgRXicWOZ-WOYTl3GKoUif99yuUbU-tye2pVnuVo02vs252Q5N-hhw-qK1zmdl6zLA-p0VrfWJR96LX061i4AdMlT75ydpRrIA3qy7RLx5vc4Zt/s1600/letterfromgrandfather.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 309px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiebD-J4GBzPz9rN6996m5JZdEl8H-nSEgRXicWOZ-WOYTl3GKoUif99yuUbU-tye2pVnuVo02vs252Q5N-hhw-qK1zmdl6zLA-p0VrfWJR96LX061i4AdMlT75ydpRrIA3qy7RLx5vc4Zt/s400/letterfromgrandfather.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500880657463498322" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0fXq1cke1QCPIZLn-ypR7Bb4z3SPMIhEDdOe0i8oc6BtoU2OheGEiz8Fh30xg1oyaIkSTCAwJUQj8MdhXP0mvonfmgwGS1dZ8k2HyjWeG9bkwI3ipB3Xpj6l28LAqK4OGlJ0izXvNI_D9/s1600/envelope.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 221px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0fXq1cke1QCPIZLn-ypR7Bb4z3SPMIhEDdOe0i8oc6BtoU2OheGEiz8Fh30xg1oyaIkSTCAwJUQj8MdhXP0mvonfmgwGS1dZ8k2HyjWeG9bkwI3ipB3Xpj6l28LAqK4OGlJ0izXvNI_D9/s400/envelope.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495890361082694226" /></a><br /><!--StartFragment--> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">This is the letter he wrote before the train crash. I found it from my father’s house along with the postcards.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">(When I was a child, I always wondered who that guy on the stamp was).</span></p></span> <!--EndFragment-->JonMeyer42http://www.blogger.com/profile/04272296455222160055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179141780323944748.post-11461901256738536342008-09-10T18:31:00.000-07:002010-08-09T16:25:41.897-07:00The train crash in 1979<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVkNYaDwucU57Z2LaMe2-fyRZI0QRnjWv-2gEUY4Jbc8AthHB_aSwvOl-l9sjr14mpEN6cRPq9vxNi9Rqa_TWLPaoK-Pb-TUW7E5H8f7PQr6lrWc8G2oLcW9y5axyVPuXGZG_rJch1o9an/s1600/Untitled-1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 202px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVkNYaDwucU57Z2LaMe2-fyRZI0QRnjWv-2gEUY4Jbc8AthHB_aSwvOl-l9sjr14mpEN6cRPq9vxNi9Rqa_TWLPaoK-Pb-TUW7E5H8f7PQr6lrWc8G2oLcW9y5axyVPuXGZG_rJch1o9an/s320/Untitled-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495887035908213682" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span><!--StartFragment--></span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I found this photo from his on of his books. I believe this was the train cash that he was in, and the one that changed our life. </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> </span></span><p></p> <!--EndFragment-->JonMeyer42http://www.blogger.com/profile/04272296455222160055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179141780323944748.post-87052239240708727132008-06-28T09:54:00.000-07:002010-08-10T05:07:27.491-07:00The drawing for the store<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_aAbnygSqh9QcPGPPXQ_meKhm1PM9rEOSgaae9YYBnvlqfNjQL5Hu5g9HvlyShPBg3zDxa5Qw0pPIllKMKBRg2sGWcT6rcSyF_18F5U4nJNRpekFQ5_xysLLLeV4Elvv_aMIJ4eTQ1d5v/s1600/my_drawing.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_aAbnygSqh9QcPGPPXQ_meKhm1PM9rEOSgaae9YYBnvlqfNjQL5Hu5g9HvlyShPBg3zDxa5Qw0pPIllKMKBRg2sGWcT6rcSyF_18F5U4nJNRpekFQ5_xysLLLeV4Elvv_aMIJ4eTQ1d5v/s400/my_drawing.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503751048119234034" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-lWC4xqUI7HDEe1sUBxAB51zA20mG5UvoMByDYWBdpzGAXLJN5lIXGxZgbB4m0FNQdNLnQHb9aI1Zo-mjWf03BJ0_HmPvI8qshD8zGjv0ug6fjW1uv0KbfBbBsfYk51SSs0VFwCHnRez7/s1600/drawing_G.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 399px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-lWC4xqUI7HDEe1sUBxAB51zA20mG5UvoMByDYWBdpzGAXLJN5lIXGxZgbB4m0FNQdNLnQHb9aI1Zo-mjWf03BJ0_HmPvI8qshD8zGjv0ug6fjW1uv0KbfBbBsfYk51SSs0VFwCHnRez7/s400/drawing_G.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503751044344512866" /></a><br />I found these drawing in my grandfather's military sketch book. After the store, we always draw the store together and exchange each others drawing as a gift. <div><br /></div>JonMeyer42http://www.blogger.com/profile/04272296455222160055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179141780323944748.post-72164681181566660932008-06-27T14:10:00.000-07:002010-08-09T16:25:05.065-07:00"Happy birthday captain!"<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'times new roman';font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'times new roman';font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgav-XZS3SfNKpLRujAvyQ9mp6NjuOC8dppGiyXXmCB-sedcC8Uq-pRXZ7g83Yza7_Sl7zWmkSBrlZGWkuRbjNbcCsKXBVc1PBC5L2BztY7U95ALlA9U3Zas2Bsk6BHrENYVAhRyu4ytJ1q/s400/birthday_card.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499840859252844738" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'times new roman';font-size:medium;">This is the birthday card that he made for me when I was 10. The background is the space man in his story that he always told us. I love that story, but I think he made that one up because seemed like I was the only one who knew this story in my childhood. The story is about a spaceman saving the world from space monsters. It was a long story that we actually spent 4 weekends to finish it. It was so good that we would want to stay over in his studio over night and keep begging him to tell us more. Every time he stopped, we all would draw out the scene of the story on that day and while we were drawing, he would give each of us an ice cream bar that looked just like captain cooper’s rocket. (At least that was what I thought)</span></div> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'times new roman';font-size:medium;">I remember I would always lie to my younger sister, saying that my grandfather told me the rest of the story already. I would make up a brand new story line and ending, and she would get upset, and go off, crying and running to my grandfather. It was just fun to see her reaction.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'times new roman';font-size:medium;">It was amazingly fun. Sometimes I wish time could go back.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment--> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVjAfYcNSWyyccX4ueC95pOJB_a8lkAAdpRqlEQ7WXXcH0bHMmi4cFAOgc0K1j0YcydRkRsLSEb0pp4aGu4pxUOKU8ues9VAO59tEGjj6qp7I9l0L_9tYCwnm3WsIX1yLd6aFcZDNeuGPI/s1600/me_and_sis.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 377px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVjAfYcNSWyyccX4ueC95pOJB_a8lkAAdpRqlEQ7WXXcH0bHMmi4cFAOgc0K1j0YcydRkRsLSEb0pp4aGu4pxUOKU8ues9VAO59tEGjj6qp7I9l0L_9tYCwnm3WsIX1yLd6aFcZDNeuGPI/s400/me_and_sis.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499840981017567442" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">This is my older sister and I; we stayed in my grandfather’s basement just to see how he made art. </span></span><o:p></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment--> </div>JonMeyer42http://www.blogger.com/profile/04272296455222160055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179141780323944748.post-2660080679962015592008-03-04T10:09:00.000-08:002010-08-09T16:24:45.928-07:00More My grandfathers photos...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirQFhUwZi5bavhbz2dCVTz1I4s-W3Kr5MELOahR7NJQtqGLZn2_nNv7N2SWxmV-ep5tUvAf_JvmehlFK8K7DoF0h-0V6Txv1SEcvoDsgvrs5_uAw6G60tx_wR-Kpm87AjHwmoRRr20K6KQ/s1600/grandfather_young.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirQFhUwZi5bavhbz2dCVTz1I4s-W3Kr5MELOahR7NJQtqGLZn2_nNv7N2SWxmV-ep5tUvAf_JvmehlFK8K7DoF0h-0V6Txv1SEcvoDsgvrs5_uAw6G60tx_wR-Kpm87AjHwmoRRr20K6KQ/s320/grandfather_young.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495889493711636850" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3R8u_7oXCmMluqJCAwiA_Kjx-LuLJsY01zb6nSun9l0DPX1zVrSDPdFqYkcHNLt54qb07QG5ggPN9-tRSlEkIjGMndob85xaHZtwm5eek7yUl6qI10KFb-QahIfJOCTD8Rkerbz2x21IK/s1600/grandfatherinoffice.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3R8u_7oXCmMluqJCAwiA_Kjx-LuLJsY01zb6nSun9l0DPX1zVrSDPdFqYkcHNLt54qb07QG5ggPN9-tRSlEkIjGMndob85xaHZtwm5eek7yUl6qI10KFb-QahIfJOCTD8Rkerbz2x21IK/s320/grandfatherinoffice.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495889492128051554" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Sxb_dFlN42JFWlOWDGGlDiNjPqdI0RMuXq60OJJZMCisLWtLGnnqtgA881iN5gwu6kUH9Czhonxev4QL6w6CkNAE_K3wUuq7cQNrzUtB72fB8ZX8LxBlag0sqb1BwNkl69k2LQImM2kB/s1600/gfinthelab.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 295px; height: 247px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Sxb_dFlN42JFWlOWDGGlDiNjPqdI0RMuXq60OJJZMCisLWtLGnnqtgA881iN5gwu6kUH9Czhonxev4QL6w6CkNAE_K3wUuq7cQNrzUtB72fB8ZX8LxBlag0sqb1BwNkl69k2LQImM2kB/s320/gfinthelab.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495889486107683314" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"></span></span></p><span style=" ;font-family:TimesNewRomanPSMT;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span><!--StartFragment--></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Before 7 years old, I rarely saw my grandfather. He only came home once a while, and never talked about his job. I only knew he was a great soldier who fought in WWII. Because of his computer skills and engineering background, he had the chance to work at a higher-level government facility. When I was 32 years old, my father told me he worked at the military base in area 51, but a soldier like him would never say a word about that place. I just can’t believe I didn’t know anything about the biggest secret in our family. But that makes me respect him even more. I found some old photos when he was in the military. He was so young back then.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> </span><p></p></span></span><p></p> <!--EndFragment-->JonMeyer42http://www.blogger.com/profile/04272296455222160055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179141780323944748.post-45940061100339839032008-03-01T15:40:00.000-08:002010-08-09T16:24:32.168-07:00My grandfather<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_k2LIbAITtoZxJSky2C4cq1LmLwuhNggrfy0DduxEqA7vQcPSg6i2hlMWKMLl2UgfO3lXk9cQPzLXtM2aOpY0pzRaq-A4V3_CT87aAq3MadMTljyKpqquPdguty1OebAWxDp1STfGB7h/s1600/the_photo_of_my_grandfather.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 252px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_k2LIbAITtoZxJSky2C4cq1LmLwuhNggrfy0DduxEqA7vQcPSg6i2hlMWKMLl2UgfO3lXk9cQPzLXtM2aOpY0pzRaq-A4V3_CT87aAq3MadMTljyKpqquPdguty1OebAWxDp1STfGB7h/s320/the_photo_of_my_grandfather.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495887651007114210" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">For the first time, I am starting a blog to memorialize my grandfather. He was the most important person in my life. After he passed away, I figured that this was something I could do to always remember him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:130.0pt;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">He was a computer engineer who specialized in PDP 11 at the military base in Nevada (I was told that he was involved in some project at Area 51 until I was 32). I rarely saw him when he was on active duty, but I always tried to see him when he was on vacation because he always had interesting stuffs to show and stories for us.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In 1979, when I was 7 years old, I remember him telling us he was being transferred to a military base near our home. Everyone was so happy because he was now so close to. If he wants, he can even come home for dinner everyday. A month after his transfer, my grandfather was involved in a train crash near his post. Only 6 men survived, and luckily my grandfather was one of them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">He spent the following year recovering at the military hospital. After the investigation of the accident, the government greatly compensated him monetarily, and he decided to retire. I think the accident completely changed his life. He became closer to the family, and that’s when we really started to build up our relationship.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">When I was 7, he taught me how to use electronic devices. Instead of buying toy cars for me, he gave me his old radio and. During the weekends, we would start projects, like disassembling the items he’d given me. We would then reassemble them or create new machines from different parts. I remember on my 8</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">th</span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> birthday, he bought me a brand new Super 8 camera as my birthday gift. It was extremely fun to play with and was advanced technology for the time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">With my grandfather around more, he was able to teach us many things, like screen printing and using a letterpress to make art. During the summer, he always got a lot of ice cream bars, and took us camping in the mountains. We would use his large telescope to count starts on those trips. I remember a story he would tell us about a space hero fighting with space monsters.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">During other times, he would allow me use his computer to learn Mores code. My siblings and I actually planed a secret mission without my parents knowing by using Mores code. I was the first kid in my school to learn how to use a computer that enabled me to send a message to someone far away that I’d never met, much like the Internet.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:13.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">It was truly my grandfather’s active role in my life that made my childhood incredible and completely different from anyone else that I knew. He opened my mind up to the possibilities of imagination and curiosity. I’m doing what I’m doing now because of him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">He died when I was 17 years old. I was so sad that I suppressed all my memory of him. Eventually, I have to use a psychic to help me bring back my memory of him, little by little. Even now, I still feel like my memory is not complete. I still need to find out more to finish the puzzle. So that’s why I started go through his old stuffs; to look carefully to find any and all the connections with him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I will use this blog to memorialize every moment that we spent together, and complete every detail that I possibly lost. I will keep posting everything about him to show the world that he is the best grandfather in the world.</span></span></p></span><!--EndFragment-->JonMeyer42http://www.blogger.com/profile/04272296455222160055noreply@blogger.com0