SOL26: June 9: Piles of Love

It's Tuesday and I am sharing a little slice of life. Lately, I've been pouring over and writing about old family photos like this image of a lonely house with a snow-stopping driveway!. This photo journey, like this image, dredges up wonderful memories and brings tears at the same time. This picture took me down memory lane to the messy, imperfect, and priceless celebration of family.

"It's special," the brand new husband offered as I joined his family's celebration with a brand new toboggan for the kids on the car's roof. We came back, year after year, with babies, toddlers, and college kids, for that special experience.

"You're finally here," Vince would tease as we arrived 5 minutes after the designated time. We put offerings under the tree and listened to who was still on their way as we placed our shrimp platter on the table. "One down, six to go," he laughed as that shrimp disappeared and he poured his brother a glass of wine in the same breath. 

Garlic infused mussles filled the air as predictably as children grew from toddlers to teens and then parents, while their Grandparents became memories. There were years when we all had packages to wrap, toys to assemble and over-stimulated children; but, we never thought about it until after the dishes were washed and the 12 Days sung. Trays of cookies would emerge from under beds and disappear as if sugar and garlic were partners.

I am not sure I ever thanked Vince and Barbara adequately for hosting this event; yet, I am grateful we came through snow, sleet and sometimes freezing rain to join. their feast. I am pretty sure they knew it was special not just because of the magical food and memorable singing, but because the holiday was infused with love and a promise that family-love, fish and sweets can offer. 

We could not have imagined it would come to an end; yet, like every single wonderful, stressful and challenging chapter of life, it ended leaving a puddle of memories and a reminder to make new ones.

Memories

We gathered like lemmings, 

In the snow, realizing, without

Saying, the real gift was love, time,

Learning to seize the moment.

 

June 8: Love and Marriage

"

My life began on June 25th," she told doctors 50 years later as well as anyone in earshot. 

Natalie was 13 or 14, he was 5 years older, when she met my dad at a roller rink where he was working; she was smitten from the start (her words). She waited, not so patiently, until she was 19 and my dad fulfilled his college dreams before earning her Mrs. It was a wedding that not everyone was thrilled about, and only one of my father's sisters and my mom's parents attended. During the early days of their marriage, my dad continued to travel as an engineering consultant and my mom lived with her sister in NYC. 

Their early years involved lots of not-so-glamorous traveling from job to job in our trusty trailer, pulled behind our Ford!  We lived in tight quarters in trailer parks, along with other nomadic families, until we were a family of 5 and I was 8! My Dad's civil engineering career focused on water systems but his passion was environmental preservation (think Rachel Carson's Silent Spring)

My Mom's focus was on creating a spotless home, perfect pie crusts, and the ideal family. (We were far from perfect! BTW the cute kid sitting near the trailer was me!)

My sister, Kathleen, arrived 2.5 years after me, and while we were wanted and loved, life was complete when my brother, Jeremiah III arrived! The Aunts even made a mid-week pilgrimage to the country to visit the miracle through the hospital window! He was cute and all that, and his arrival altered family dynamics and my mother's status for some of the family!  Fortunately, he turned out to be a great brother who seemed to roll with the punches in spite of his status!  

My parents in later years with me!

June 7: The Aunts

They were known collectively as "The Aunts," in spite of distinct personalities as in "We are going to visit The Aunts." 

Loretta, or Lora, (in the middle) the oldest of my Dad's sisters, taught briefly in their one-room schoolhouse after completing New Paltz Normal School. She left the post to her little sister, Anne, and headed to a career in the NYS Taxation Department in Albany, a bold move for a single woman of her era, It wasn't long before she found herself living the single-career-woman life in the big city and wormed her way to the top in her male-dominated field. While she never married, she had had an active social life. As a child. I visited once, twice a year for the afternoon. One of my great memories is that Aunt Lora meticulously collected and saved articles about and Daily News collectibles about the Beatles during their debut years!  She also took me into Manhattan, on the subway once, to buy a blue, shirtwaist dress, like the ones she always wore, at Macy's. 

Three of the sisters, Josephine, Helen, and Gert, left the farm and headed, at least for a while, to her Brooklyn apartment where there were opportunities beyond Montgomery. Mary, the fourth born and second oldest sister, (pictured below with my grandmother outside my Aunt Anne's house) stayed on the farm until it was sold and then, moved with my Grandmother to Lora's apartment in Brooklyn. Grandma had been raised in the city, but Mary left her heart in the country. In time, she found a job where she worked until becoming my Grandmother's caregiver. I am pretty sure I never saw her without her sisters and that she never had her own bedroom. 

For many years, Lora, Mary and Gert shared an apartment and lives in Brooklyn, at one point lived on top of the old Ebbet's Field, where their beloved Brooklyn Dodges played before leaving for CA. After my Grandmother Anna passed, they retired to Florida for just a few years, near their oldest brother, George. 

The ninth born, youngest, and tallest of the sisters, Gert, worked for many years in banks across the city and Long Island. She was the "driver" and proud car owner whose wheels allowed them trips to the country and to visit family. After her sisters had both passed away, she moved into the condo next door to my parents, a move that ultimately allowed me to get to know her and support her in her last years. Interestingly, her life was derailed by the mother of a beau who felt her faith was an insurmountable deterrent. He was ultimately lost in WWII.  Some of my greatest memories of Gert are her requested pink bedroom in that condo and her 42-inch television to watch her beloved Yankees on ESPN. Until the very end, she watched the Days of Our Lives and completed crossword puzzles with passion. 

                                                       Aunt Gert with her 1979 Chevy, 
                                                    40,000 miles and nearly 40 years later

June 6: Montgomery Roots

Day 6 of old family pictures and stories is from the paternal side of my tree, edited* from an earlier edition, Thanks to my cousin, Kurt, for helping to clarify details. 

Jeremiah, raised on a farm in Montgomery, NY, fell head over heals for a girl from Manhattan who spent the summer recovering from serious illness in the country.  At one point, he even tried, briefly, life in the big city; ultimately, he wooed her back to the country and life on the farm. He passed before I was born, but from this one picture, he appeared short of statue, but somehow reproduced some six-footers! 

Milk for Manhattan was big business and while they were not wealthy, there was plenty of food for the ten children who would arrive like clockwork every other year. There was no electricity until my dad, the youngest, was in high school and Roosevelt's Rural Electric Act spurred such development.

Their first two boys, George and Philip, were already off to the Army and University when my father, Jeremiah Jr., arrived after a string of seven sisters and I suspect my grandfather was encouraged by the potential of someone to carry on the farm. The oldest sister, Loretta, was off at college and another sister, Ester, passed away just few weeks before my dad was born; I suspect that may have also helped earn his favored status in the household among the older sisters still at home, Mary, Anne, Josephine, Helen, and Gertrude.                                          

 

I found a few treasured photos that left me in awe of the fortitude and resilience of raising such a brood without running water! "Family lore" suggests their alfalfa fed cows produced milk that was valued  bringing top pennies even in the Depression. 

                                                                                                                  

I think, Baby Jerry, Helen and Gert

I think Little Jerry in the front, 

Back row, Anne, Mary, middle row

Josephine and Gertrude

It appears someone saw the potential of learning? They even built the local one room school right on their property (another story) It appears that most of the children were encouraged to attend college or trade school of some sort, but as in large families, the resources may have been strained at times, especially after my grandfather developed cancer.  My dad helped run the farm, even in high school, but it was sold shortly after his dad's passing so my dad could fulfill his dream of engineering. 

The house burned to the ground in the 50s, but my cousin remembers visiting with our Aunts and seeing "their farmhouse" along with the "new" owners. 

I have no memories of Montgomery other than visiting my Aunt Anne who stayed in the area, but I do sometimes wonder what adventures we cousins would have had if our family track had a different direction. That is a another story, or two!

                                                                          A sketch of the farmhouse from my Dad many years later. 

June 5: Immigrant Roots

I am writing about old family photos this month.  This is probably my oldest family picture.

Like those before and after him, Pasquale came to America in search of something, better, different, or perhaps adventure. Yet, he was not the usual late 1800 immigrant in that he could read and write both was both English and Italian when he arrived from his home village near Calabria. I have no idea how his skills were learned in a era where school often took a back seat to survival; yet, they served him well when he made his way from NYC to the Catskill Valley, and settled along the Delaware Rover in a small farming village close to the the Delaware Railroad.

Based on local history, Margaretsville was already a thriving farming and trading hub with general stores, mills, and stagecoach stops when he arrived in the late 1800s. In time, he became a shop owner who also translated messages and made sure the written word was understood. 

Maria, Pasquale's wife and my Great Grandmother, passed shortly after their only child was born leaving him the doting father of a daughter whose life was filled with books, educational opportunities, and more photographs than her peers. At some point, he did remarry a woman who appeared to have been active in the Suffragette movement.

He passed before I was born, and I never really heard much about him from relatives deeply scarred by the Depression and consumed with living in the moment. Yet, the bits and pieces that I do know suggest he was influenced by reading and thinking beyond the scope of many in his times. 

                                            Great Grandfather and his pride and joy, 

                                                       my Grandmother, 1915 ish

Great-Grandpa

In my imagination, he was a teacher, or

Son of a business-person, adventurous,

With curiosity, questions, enough money to 

Fund an America adventure, 

Ahead of his time, considering

Women as valuable,

Capable of more than sauce, 

Encouraged learning, voting, 

College, wearing pants, 

Bobbing hair, thinking 

Outside the box,  

In my dreams. 

                                                    

June 4 Carpe Diem

This month, I am taking a walk down the complex and intersection ridden Memory Lane of old family photos thanks to a push from my blogging friend, Kim Johnson, Common Threads. 

We woke up in a college dorm at Cornell University where they let guests stay before graduation. I guess there were not enough local hotels available, but I really am not sure. We showered in a giant shower room along with other female relatives and friends of graduates. I tried to quickly shower my very pregnant self, keeping my talkative and curious two-year old tucked into a corner shower area. 

Yet, she overlooked the wide load right in front of her to comment on the many other body shapes and sizes scattered around the room. I am pretty sure I scooped her slithery body up as fast as I could when she asked me why people were so fat? Fortunately, she slept through the long, hot speeches and graduation rituals where my baby brother and his soon to be wife earned life-long Big Red status. My dad was thrilled to finally have another engineer in the family. I suspect  my mom was happy her baby, Jeremiah III, would be back at home, at least for a short while. 

I am glad we celebrated that day, as schools, work, moves, and family pressures would impact and separate us all in the days and years to come. When I reflect on the photo of my nuclear family, I see loss of people I loved, through death or by choice. Only remnants, my sister, my daughter, and me, remain. I am sure that someone said something about Carpe Diem either that day or at some graduation speech somewhere! It is a wise message to graduates and their families.

Carpe Diem

Celebrate moments

You will have the memories

Moments of joy, love.

June 3: Avis

My blogging friend, Kim Johnson, Common Threads, hit a nerve with a proposal to share family photos in June. I have been looking critically at the old photos, like these from an album my mom created during her teenage years.

My Grandmother, Maria Avis, grew up in upstate NY as the adored only child of a fairly successful, Italian translator and dry-goods shop owner. Her stepmother, from what we can deduce, was involved with the Suffragette movement in Seneca Falls. 

Avis loved books and learning. She attended New Paltz Normal School, and became a teacher in the nearby Hudson Valley. She kept her college books, teaching magazines, and manuals in an attic trunk that was a special space for her granddaughter, who was also fascinated with books and learning.

 Like most teachers of her time, Avis boarded with a local family with children in the school.  That is where she met my Grandfather, Gerow, who although several years her junior, grew up right before her eyes. I think there might have been a bit of a hormones and lot of charm that festered in that old farm house over the years, and eventually they were married. 

This second picture is Avis and Gerow, with their three daughters, exactly 20 years after their marriage, at Keuka College, on the Finger Lakes. Their oldest, Mary Etta, was attending college, and her sisters, Lucille and Natalie (my mom), tagged along on the unprecedented, and from what I can deduce, not ever repeated, 500 mile round trip!  I can only imagine what that trip was like!

SOL26: June 2 Messy, Mismatched and Hidden

Today, I am sharing bits and pieces of my life with my Slice of Life community, During the rainy Memorial Day weekend, I began looking critically at the old photos. This one, time stamped 2-18-04 stopped me in my tracks, even if it did not make it into the "keep" pile!

In the days long ago, before social media suggested we post images of picture-perfect homes rather than real, lived in ones, I for some unknown reason snapped an image of the corner of the kitchen where I wrote lesson plans, student reports and my dissertation in a flea-market-chair on same rickety kitchen table where my Grandmother "set up house-keeping."  I filled my corner with a hand-me-down desk-top computer and the benches that once held my young children and used them to hold paper, books, and research papers. 

Looking at that sparsely decorated corner from a 2026 perspective, I realize I was not even a little bit concerned about the mismatched decor or lack of creature comfort in that space! There were no need for a theme or color coded bookcases in the background in those times before zoom turned our home spaces into curated images.  In fact, that purple image on the green chair was actually a pillow, covered with an old sweatshirt, used to "support" my back sometimes and prevent my "writing sores" at others!

 I could almost hear the usual evening noise of the dishwasher, nearby, doing its thing and the television, in the other room, as I got to work on the task that needed to be done before bedtime, as I concluded this image had no family or historical significance leading to its destruction. Those were thegood old days when real life was messy, mismatched and hidden from the world! 

June 1: Jeremiah

 

My blogging friend, Kim Johnson, who blogs at Common Threads, hit a nerve with a proposal to share family photos in June. I have been doing a bit of cleaning myself and have been looking critically at the old photos I want to keep. I like the idea of making a digital copy and sharing, if only for my own benefit.

This first photo is me, a few months old, with my parents. Based on other pictures from that day, I think it was at my Aunt's apartment in Manhattan. Most likely it was a weekend and a summer day in an apartment without air conditioning; yet, my dad wore a dress shirt and tie!

As a farmer who grew up and went to college and became an engineer, he wore a shirt and tie, most of the time. Growing up, his farming roots emerged at times as he planted a few tomatoes or roses; but the expected dress code for engineers, even if they were out in the field surveying, was what is now considered dress up! 

He's on my mind as I write this, as last night, I went to a dinner to honor my daughter-in-law, Sue  for directing the revival of the Rockland Community Farm Network, non-profit, organic, educational farms in the same town where my dad helped design and build the dam that provides their water! Honestly, I know he was smiling in the heavens to know that farmers, now, can dress up in suits and ties and attend fancy dinners.  

I also suspect that he would be thrilled to name that new baby goat on the farm and might even suggest some derivative of Jeremiah, such as Jeremy, appropriate for that new little babe. 

Dad

Known for one-liners 

That quieted the ruckus

Pursued his dreams, 

Kept his roots and beliefs,

Would be proud of those

Full-circle moments.

!

May 29: Poetry Friday

On this last Friday in May, the promise of long, sun-kissed days and lazy, summer breezes is evident; yet, there is a pervasive, underlying tension in the world that colors everything we see and do and makes my OLW elusive many days. My poem this morning is a sort of found poem from headlines in this mornings NY Times the bold words in each line. 

Uncertainly hangs, like pesky clouds while 
Power-charged words, like bombs, bluster, 

Sow confusion, mixed with promises, threats, 

Veiled truths, bold lies intertwine with news of

Corporations skirting 40 billion in taxes, 

In an era when we all agree 

Rules are not enough 

As we struggle with questions, like why

Groceries are so expensive?

Then I come to Where do you turn 

When you need advice? 

How about a poem? 

Where Do You Turn When You Need Advice? How About a Poem?