I promised more to come about the Pinocchio and Geppetto picture, but didn't write anything. Those two marionettes belonged to my sister and brother. Geppetto was hers, Pinocchio was his. I loved them, though, possibly more than they did.  Not sure, because they are dear to us all. I'm guessing they are about 45 years old, give or take a year or so.

Pinocchio was my favorite book. My father would work the puppets, acting out the story and other adventures, making up dialogue between them, he even made a wooden puppet stage and other props for them. I remember how I protested when they had to go to sleep in their shoe box home at night, to have their strings untangled the following day.

In this picture they have just had a bath, and are waiting for string detangling. At some point, Pinocchio's nose broke off, and my father repaired it with plastic.

Over the years those two acquired some peers: a pair of puppets my brother got in Mexico, and a space man complete with green light bulb head that my father made as part of a Halloween costume. The puppet who wanted to be a real boy and his woodcarver father expanded their repertoire and came to America. In the company of the new marionettes, they made a few appearances on a cardboard stage that once was a washing machine box, taking part in a parody of a show on the Nashville Network.