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I must act like a gentleman behind sister’s back #39-#46Joseph Botthof 
I might be the last person who remembers Joseph Botthof; it was the collection of postcards I found in a cardboard box containing scraps that very easily sum up the humble life of a Korean War veteran and lifetime resident of Pennsylvania that inspired me to start this blog. From grade school report cards to wedding invitations, I am the last protector of the scraps Botthof carried with him his whole life. Carefully boxed and cataloged, his kin thought so little of this man’s legacy that it was left among dozens of soggy cardboard boxes in a boarded up trailer on State Line Rd. at the New York border. 
I was asked recently by a friend and fellow tumblrer Emma W-W why, of all things, I chose to focus on postcards when I could share his life with the public. Though a lot has to do with content (I can always get more postcards, I can’t just go out and get more information about Joe — Trust me, I’ve tried), it also has to do with the unlikely kinship I have with a man I’ve never met.
You can’t chose how people will remember you (or if you’ll be remembered at all), but when your life is so neatly stuffed into a box, you have a few options. The postcards I’ve shared from Botthof’s life are the most telling, because he isn’t the one writing the narrative. I have hand drawn maps from his tours in Korea marking the dates and locations where he was under fire, bombed, attacked, stranded. I have mementos from vacation trips to New York City; fantastic vintage maps and tour books. I have childhood action figures of deep sea divers, soldiers. I have very few photos.
Still, the one sided correspondence with his sister between the years of 1936 and 1949 (what I refer to as the Clementon cards) is the most intimate look into Botthof’s life. What might appear as mundane vacation obligation actually paints the most delicate and heartbreaking portrait of, what I can only assume is, the most important relationship in Joseph’s life (spending his entire life in Sharon Hill, Southeastern Pennsylvania, it was closer to Wellsboro in Northern Penna. where I discovered his box — Wellsboro was the city his Sister lived in). I unapologetically plucked these cards from a large scrapbook filled with other relics (parade fare, religious tokens, fliers, programs, drawings, mentions in local papers) because, of all the things he left for me(?) I felt these were the most important windows into his life. There is a gentle responsibility in these cards, all saturated with regret, worry, pride, sadness, and lethargy. The gradual distance and rigidity in the cards through the years and the sudden return of the warmth in her words suggest worlds of possibilities; it’s in this juxtaposition of intimacy and mystery that Joseph shines. After all, this is how I have come to know him, and to try to cement any one reality would only be detriment to the man I protect.
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Glen Lake at Autumn Time
In Leelanau County, 25 miles Northwest of Traverse City, Michigan is Glen Lake, said to be one of the most beautiful lakes in the world. It truly is, especially in the fall.
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Greenfield Village, Dearborn, Michigan - Among the several public buildings located on the village green is the 19th century General Store. In the background is Clinton Inn, first overnight stagecoach stop between Detroit and Chicago. Both buildings, with nearly 100 other original structures, were brought here to tell a comprehensive store of 300 years of Americana.
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