Post script: I didn't know my grt.uncle John, until around 1985. He was a very comical kinda guy,once he said, "I'm almost 89, I'd be 90, but I was sick a year. Tho' through his jokes, he was one of the saddest people I ever met. He had many regrets about his his life, mainly about his three sons. When Flo died, he was a young man that had a bit of a problem with drinking, maybe if Flo would have lived, he would have outgrown his wildness, but she didn't. He told me, he thought he was doing good by the boys, putting them in a home. He thought they would be well taken care of. [I guess adults just don't know, what those places can be like.] The sad thing is, John didn't change his life, in time to be there for his sons. But I remember the sad old man, that was trying to get pictures of his sons, to splice together with one of himself, to make a family portrait. He was close, but he never got that portrait finished.