My Father, My Uncle

My family has had a long standing struggle with property we own in the Sierra Foothills. Recently I took some things out of the family homestead to preserve them because the home has been vandalized several times. I was accused of stealing those items by my uncle and my aunt. My heart has been broken ever since. I have been so profoundly sad about the whole situation I have been unable to look at the items sitting in my home waiting to be returned to the ranch. I didn't really think I could get any sadder about the situation until I opened the box of photos and found this one of my father and uncle when they were boys. It was taken 1944 when my dad was about 16 years old. Those were the days when they were best friends. My uncle has professed that my father, pictured in the front, was his hero. They camped together, hiked together and dug bottles together. When I was a child I remember my father talking on the phone with his brother for hours. Now, they barely speak at all. My dad is 80 years old now. He just wants some peace in his life. All the stuff I "stole" goes back on Friday. Instead of stuff I have the love of my father, I have the love of my siblings, I have the love of my family. Poor Richard doesn't understand once all the stuff goes back, I still have the treasure.