Friday, May 01, 2009
I was cleaning another hot spot the other day and came across an envelope of photos. Old photos. My mother was born in 1933, these are her parents, a picture taken on their wedding day. My personal memories of my grandmother are not warm fuzzy ones. I remember her a hard woman, not prone to spontaneous hugs or impromtu treats. It's really not surprising, given that her husband died of tuberculosis about five years after this photo was taken and she was left to raise two little girls on her own in Nazi occupied Amsterdam. This photo suggests that she wasn't always that way, and I wish now I'd had the opportunity to know her better.
I have more photos, too. Scott refers to them as my old farts. I'll scan and include them here from time, and let you get to know my old farts as well.