This has been a sobering time of reflection. And so I turned to some family photos, and discovered something I had not noticed before.
Although the photos below were taken at different ages in their lives, over a hundred years apart, I saw a real similarity between my grandmother and my granddaughter, both of whom mean so much to me. And I do see more than a hint of my own grandmother in my granddaughter's sweet, smiling face.
My grandmother, perhaps 17
She was blonde and slight and smart. She came to America from Frankfurt, a solo girl, on a long journey at the end of the 19th century, to Castle Clinton in New York City, before Ellis Island was even there. And she deeply loved this country.
We shared a room, and as I was falling asleep she would tell stories of her childhood in Germany, and being set up with someone she didn't want to marry, and how she left for New York where a distant relative lived. Her parents followed later, well before the Nazis came to power.
She enjoyed reading biographies, loved to waltz, often spoke in German and didn't think I understood what she was saying, was liberal to the core, could touch her toes at 91, couldn't cook very well but cooked anyway, worked hard at keeping the house clean, missed the big city ("Miami is boring!). She kept a bottle of Ballantine's scotch under her bed and would take a "schlook" now and then to stay asleep.
She separated for awhile from my grandfather before things like that were common, but later lived in our small house with him and with my parents and three children, of which I was the oldest. I admired her.
My granddaughter, now 7
She too is blond and slight and smart. She was born in Manhattan, where her great-great grandmother lived most of her life and her grandmother (that would be me) was born. She loves sweets and people, asks charming questions, knows all about presidents -- by chance she has seen the current one up close -- plays piano, does her homework, enjoys swimming and tennis. And she adores her parents and her little sister.
My granddaughter's such a New York girl that when she was four and I pointed on the bottom of the globe to Antarctica where I would be traveling, she said without a second thought, "Grandma, that's way downtown."
I have a feeling that she too will travel "way downtown." Not just across the ocean like her great-great grandmother, or to faraway places like her grandmother, but across the sky, beyond our dreams.
She lives in a city that knows the consequences of terrorism, and like her great-great grandmother, she has seen the consequences of hatred.
My wish for her is that she -- and her great-great grandchildren living 127 years from now -- may be traveling and living in peace.
TIP:
Enter the amount, and click "Tip" to submit!
ccdarling
nilesite
cancerdancer
Liberal Southern Democrat
Emily Rapp
Nick Carraway
Salon.com
Comments
What a beautiful girl, and I see more than a passing resemblance to your grandmother too. She must've been quite beautiful, her eyes are lovely even in such an old photo.
And these mysterious drops you leave in comments on other's blogs that I keep picking up and filing away, and here again on your post I read another: "More than I admired my mother."
That isn't what this post is about...but I admit to some increasing curiosity about that. Yes, I do also realize this is none of my business. : )
Lezlie
Yup Lea Lane. Beauty-full.
Annabella is Beautiful too.
She is seven and one-half.
I say She's spoiled rotten.
Her response is`Pa Pa`
I may be spoiled`Pa Pa`
But Pa Pa your rotten.
`
I Love to make the connection.
My cousin did a Family Archive.
I always dwell there and wonder.
What Gift to have CD's storage.
Cousin Bill (William) wanders.
He writes a few Harley's too.
He rides one bike at a time.
He No wears a bike helmet.
ABATE is a No hemet group.
He writes for various groups.
He may wear a woolen hat.
I Love that first comment.
Thanks. This is so special.
My photos appear so demented.
Cousin Bill? Thanks again. Gifts.
Lea Lane? You live @ Lover Lane.
And Matt, too kind. Really.
Yes, may they all soar in peace.
Whenever I read about immigrants who came over and, very matter-of-factly, started up again, I'm so amazed by their fortitude and strength. I don't think I'd be able to do it. Or maybe I'd surprise myself, but I'm hoping I'm not tested!
Thanks, ravensword!