A portrait of my grandfather Alan and great-uncle John as tables.
Alan was unable to go to college due to his father's injury, and worked as a union painter in San Francisco. He married my grandmother who was a Central Valley farmer, and commuted to Turlock every weekend to be with his family on the farm for a couple days. He was said to always have roasted almonds in his pockets.
John was an engineer and helped with the planning and construction of the Golden Gate Bridge. During the genocide, he was found hiding in a garden, and was shot at three time point blank, but the gun misfired every time. The man trying to kill him took this as a sign that God wanted him to live, and left him.