You’d probably think this post is about the adorable little boy with the charming smile in his little plastic car…but it’s not. It’s actually about the small ceramic car planter sitting on the end table behind him. This photo probably was taken after Christmas in 1970 or early 1971. The adorable little boy is my beloved brother who died almost one year ago.

There’s a back story to this planter. Bruce doesn’t really remember our dad, as he was not quite four years old when Dad died. One of the planters we received at Dad’s funeral was this ceramic planter of a Model A Ford Roadster. Years later, after Mom had died and Bruce and Dave moved to Chicago, this planter went with him. In the late 1990s when they were moving back to St. Louis, one of the last items that they carried out of their condo, was this planter. For some reason, Bruce set the planter down in the lobby of the building and forgot it there. As soon as he remembered it, he went back and it was gone. Bruce was devastated. Several years later, he was in a thrift shop when he saw this planter sitting there. It looked exactly like the first one and he had to have it. I’m sure it wasn’t the same one, but throughout all the years and several different moves, Bruce kept this planter.

A couple of months before Bruce died, I was at his house, and he took me to see his “memorabilia” room. Sitting on the shelf was this planter with a very forlorn-looking pothos vine. The vine was every bit of three feet long and had only about half a dozen leaves. I figured this vine must have had some special significance to it, but I didn’t ask.

When I was looking for photographs of Bruce for his memorial service, I found this one of him sitting in his little plastic pedal car. It wasn’t until I looked closely at the photo that I realized that the ceramic car planter was sitting on the end table behind him. Dave liked this photo so much that it was one of the enlarged ones he used at the service.

I went to Bruce’s house a couple of weeks ago to pick up some family items Dave thought I might like. He showed me the planter on the shelf and told me the story about it. I don’t know what I said, but he offered me the planter. I took it home and debated on what to do with the scraggly, forlorn vine and finally decided I’d try to propagate new growth from the vine in case it was a really special vine.

Our Dad was always a car man. He worked for many years at an auto supply store and then was able to achieve his dream of owning his own gas station. Whoever gave us this planter must have thought, “Wow, Charley would like this!”

And I guess it wasn’t just four-wheels, he must have also enjoyed the two-wheel models.

So thinking of you, Dad, as your 100th birthday and the first anniversary of Bruce’s death are approaching, I’m hoping you are holding him near.

P.S. I love this photo of Bruce so much, and at some point, I intend to have a copy of it framed for my wall. But for now, I can’t look at it without crying…and yes, I’m crying. It takes my breath away.