With these things I have built memories that are like a room with little over head lighting; the specifics are sometimes fuzzy and sometimes my knowledge of a fact is focused on the smallest, most specific details. This is particularly true for my Uncle Henry.
The facts of his life are pretty simple. He was born to a family that had more children than his parent could feed. My grandparents adopted him shortly before he became a teen. In high school he was a golden boy; artistic, articulate, and athletic.
Growing up during WWII he was drafted and went away from his Colorado home to the wild land of New York state. While he was there he became a father. He was shipped to Germany and was killed in a battle in Germany.
He received a Purple Heart and is buried in Roselawn Cemetery, Pueblo, Colorado.
His life was fuller and more complex than a simple biography.
How he came to be a part of my family is one tale. How he was drafted another. And his last resting place is the part of a mystery I learned when I went Colorado on vacation.