I’ve been thinking a lot about my family lately. No particular reason, at least as far as I’m aware.
Maybe it’s because of all the recent Facebook backlash. Like so many, I’m not happy about the role they played in the Russian meddling and Cambridge Analytica data breech — but am loath to disconnect because it’s such a great way to keep up to date on all the comings and goings of friends and family who live elsewhere.
Maybe it’s because of Easter and Passover. I’ve written before about how we weren’t particularly observant, but we Continue reading →
After yesterday’s post was published a friend emailed me to talk about it. One of her comments was in reference to my recollections of the Christmas lunches my father and grandfather had for their staff — her point being that it was probably those acts of kindness and generosity that were, in large part, what made their employees so loyal.
She was right, of course. My dad and grandfather treated their employees kindly, fairly and respectfully everyday, not just once a year at lunch. And in return, they had virtually
no staff turnover.
Well, Chanukah and Christmas are over for another year and I’m sure I’m not the only one for whom this season triggers many memories.
Christmas wasn’t a holiday we celebrated when I was growing up, we didn’t have a tree or exchange gifts, but we certainly got into its joyful spirit. Ours was a close family, and we spent just about every day and evening together for that week. Good times, good food and much laughter is what I remember.
Yes, that’s me in the photo. With my dad, a very long time ago. Hard to believe I was ever that tiny. Oh, how I adored him. We were extremely close, up to the day he died, 30 years ago. Hard to believe that, too — that it’s been so long. I still think of him every day and still miss him like crazy.
He was an amazing dad. For that matter, he was a pretty amazing human being. Kind, thoughtful, open-minded, generous, loving, loyal, honest as the day is long.
When I needed advice it was my father to whom I turned, always, even as an adult. His friends and my friends often turned to him as well, as did many members of our family. You could always count on him to be fair, objective and Continue reading →
Listening to all the speeches at both the Republican and Democratic conventions and then watching as Hillary Clinton accepted the Democratic nomination for President of the United States, it suddenly hit me: How, when it comes to family, I won the lottery.
My maternal grandmother was one of nine children, four boys and five girls. They were all open-minded, tolerant accepting and opinionated at a time when that was not so common. They came by it honestly enough, my great Continue reading →
This is a photo of my mother and her identical twin sister. My mother’s the one on the left. There’s no date on the back so I have no idea how old they were. I’m going to say 20 or 21. They’d be 93 if they were still alive.
Ironically they both died in the month of February, although my aunt preceded my mother by several years. She died February 3, 2000. And this coming Thursday, February 26, my mother will have been gone eight years.
Can’t believe how quickly the time’s passed.
But this isn’t a post about sadness and loss. That’s not the right way to remember my mother; or my aunt, for that matter. They were way too full of life to dwell on anything but what characters they were. And what joy they brought.
They were so much alike — and not just in looks — it was freaky. Especially for me, an only Continue reading →
About three weeks ago, I wrote about my aunt, Leatrice, the last of my mother’s sisters. In my heart I knew, that day, she was not doing very well. I spoke with her every week and when I got off the phone after we talked for what turned out to be the last time, I was really concerned about her. What I didn’t know, was just how rapidly she would decline. Unfortunately she passed away eight days ago.
She’s the one in the middle in the photograph. My mother is on the left and her twin sister, on the right. The twins were seven years older than my aunt. She looks about six or seven, I’m guessing — the smocked dress is a give-away, don’t you think? So they would have been thirteen or fourteen. Teenagers, although to me, they look older — more sophisticated. It’s probably the lipstick that was added to the photograph later. And the rouge, as it was called in those days.
I love this photo. The first time I saw it was at my cousin’s house, after my aunt’s funeral. Obviously in those days there were no colour photographs, so this was tinted. The three of them look like they’re in a
It’s interesting, the things we remember from long ago. Really long, like our childhood. And what triggers those memories. Last week I called my aunt. The last of my mother’s sisters who’s still alive. She’s far from young now and not so well and I guess, when I got off the phone, I was a bit melancholy. Ours had been such a large, and close knit family and there’s not many left.
I didn’t think much about it right after the call, but I guess it must have been weighing on my mind. Because days later, while reading, I suddenly had a flashback. I was really young, maybe three or four, five at the most. I was in a car. My grandfather was driving. My father was in the passenger seat. My aunt, this same aunt, her fiancé (very recent) and I were all sharing the back seat.
Like most little kids I was jabbering away. It was clear this was not my aunt’s idea of heaven. I could tell because she sighed a lot,