This small photograph (1.5" X 1") came to me the way many others have—tucked into a box of old family pictures that has followed me for years. Most of the images in that box offer no names, no dates, and no context. This one was different.
Written on the back, in handwriting I recognize, was a simple name: Andy Brady.
The handwriting appears to match that of my dad's sister, Geraldine (Dodson) Godwin, which immediately suggested that the boy in the photograph was someone known to the family. Beyond that, there were no details—just a name and a face.
My dad, Bruce Dodson, was born in 1925 and grew up in Washington, Indiana, attending West End Elementary School. Based on the age of the boy in the photograph and the familiarity implied by the handwritten name, my initial guess was that Andy Brady may have been a school friend of dad's.
With that in mind, I turned to Ancestry.com and searched for an Andy Brady connected to Daviess County, Indiana, with a birth year of 1925.
What I found was a record for Bernard Eugene “Andy” Brady, born November 1, 1925, in Washington, Indiana—the same town where dad (and I) was born and raised.
That discovery, while not proof, felt like a meaningful connection. The timing, the location, and the name all lined up in a way that suggested this could very well be the same Andy Brady whose name was written on the back of the photograph.
While researching further, I also came across another Ancestry.com member who had posted information about Bernard Eugene (Andy) Brady. I decided to reach out through Ancestry’s private messaging system to introduce myself, explain the family history research I’m doing, and mention that I have an old photograph of a young boy labeled “Andy Brady” that I inherited through my family.
I asked whether this might be the same person and whether she might be willing to share any additional information.
For now, I’m waiting to hear back.
Until then, this photograph remains what it has likely been for decades—a quiet marker of a childhood moment. A boy, neatly dressed, looking into a camera, unaware that many years later someone would still be wondering who he was, who his friends were, and what path his life took.
If I learn more, I’ll return to this photograph and try to tell a fuller story. If I don’t, I’m still glad the name was written down—and that Andy Brady, whoever he was, hasn’t been entirely forgotten.
When facts are uncertain or incomplete, parts of this story reflect careful interpretation rather than confirmed history. They are offered in the spirit of preservation and respect.
