…partially set for our post-church luncheon:
See that little bit of bench sticking out? It hit me today that the man who made it, my grandmother’s grandfather, Thomas Pemberton, was born over 200 years ago, all the way back in 1821. And at least since my father and uncle came along a century after Thomas was born, little Weedon posteriors have seated themselves upon it, often for Sunday meals. Today three little Weedon bottoms were still planted on it: Lydia, Oliver, and Henry. I don’t think they have the first clue that they are the great-great-great-great grandchildren of the man who built it, and built it to last.
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