A new old photograph
My mother has been active lately on Ancestry.com. They take DNA samples and they find people related to you among their users. My mother recently found some cousins, not all that distant, I think either second cousins or second cousins once removed. Because her paternal grandmother didn’t get along with everyone and her father was an only child (as is she), my mother didn’t grow up spending time with her father’s side of the family.
Aside from knowing some relatives in common, there’s another interesting benefit of such contacts: photographs. The one above came into my mother’s possession (electronically) a few days ago. She’d never seen it. I think she was told it was taken in 1910 in Jamaica Bay, Queens. I think it may be a bit more recent, like maybe 1912. In any case, certainly over a century old.
I knew three people in the photograph.
You might think Sure, the three kids. But no. I knew the three people on the left. The boy is my grandfather, whom I mostly take after. The other two are his parents.
As an aside, those were not the only great grandparents I knew. Somewhere there is a home movie of my first birthday party. In that apartment in Corona, Queens, were ten of my genetic ancestors. An eleventh was alive but not there – he barely spoke English and I was not his first great-grandchild like I was for all my mother’s grandparents. I have a slightly different relationship with ancestry than most people. All three of them died within about ten years, I think more like eight or nine, the last – my grandfather, as you’d expect – when I was 22 or maybe just 23.
My grandfather was a radio amateur, a ham radio operator. That was his version of what would now be a chatroom. If you opened the closet in his ham shack, the room he set up in, on the door you’d see this mirror:
My great grandparents lived upstairs from their son and daughter in law. When I first came to the US from the Panama Canal Zone where I was born (Dad was in the Army and stationed there), we lived across the street from them for a little over four years. When I knew my great grandfather, he was usually sitting in a chair smoking a pipe. Actually, this chair
There’s a button on the arm I could never manage to push down. I didn’t know what it was for. As it turns out, this is an early recliner, and the button lets you go back and, if you’re already back, it brings the back up. He had a stool for a footrest I think but there is also a footrest that physically pulls out of the front of the chair and under it is a sort of basket you could leave a newspaper in. It’s in the basement, it needs to be cleaned up, and I didn’t bother straightening around it for the picture. I got up and took pictures of both objects while I was writing this. They’re just here.
There were a few other photos in this batch. One contains my great grandfather with two of his brothers and his father, smoking and a little obscured by the smoke. This was after all a casual occasion at the beach. I didn’t include those. No reason to. It’s a very different look at my great-great grandfather. I also learned that at one point he was an undertaker. I’ve seen his citizenship papers; they are dated 1866. As being Jewish in America goes, that’s older than most, predating most immigration. So through my grandfather I’m fourth generation American. Through my other grandparents I’m third and second generation.
Oh, what the Hell
My great-grandfather is sitting on the front right in front of his father. I’ve been to both their gravesites.
I never saw my great-grandfather look like that. My mother hadn’t either, and she’d grown up in the same house with him. I just knew him as old and quiet. Mom I guess knew him as young and quiet. I think some of the tools I have were probably his. Because my grandfather and mother were only children, both my grandfather’s tools and his father’s tolls ended up with my father and in turn with me, but I don’t know which one comes from when or whom.
Who knew that because of a website I’d see new pictures of my grandfather, my great grandparents, and even my great great grandparents just before I turn 66? That’s tomorrow.
I haven’t played my piano in ages and I had it tuned today as a birthday present. I’ll play it tomorrow. To my knowledge, it’s a few years older than these pictures. We got it in 1970.
Jonathan Wolfman
09/30/2020 @ 9:14 pm
This is lovely.
koshersalaami
09/30/2020 @ 9:18 pm
Thank you. Glad you’re checking out the site every once in a while.
jpHart
10/01/2020 @ 2:06 am
Quintessentially cool!
Remarkable heirloom as time slips; no doubt you’ll get your kicks on route 66 ~~~HAPPY BIRTHDAY~~~
koshersalaami
10/01/2020 @ 8:31 am
Thank you JP
Bitey
10/01/2020 @ 6:08 am
Fantastic photos.
And you tunes your piano yesterday as a birthday present? When was your birthday? Mine was yesterday, September 30th. Whenever it was, Happy Birthday, my friend!
koshersalaami
10/01/2020 @ 8:30 am
Thank you. Not was, is. Oct 1. Happy Birthday a day late to you.
I could make an astrological comment about thought processes here. The idea is idiotic except that I notice it works in predicting personalities way too often.
Bitey
10/01/2020 @ 9:04 am
Yeah, I have an open mind on that one because there seem to be way too many coincidences. I can’t explain it, and I can’t disprove it.
Lezlie Bishop
10/01/2020 @ 9:02 am
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!! Your essay is a reminder of how much I miss Open Salon.
koshersalaami
10/01/2020 @ 10:11 am
Thank you so much, both for the comment and for coming
Jonna Connelly
10/01/2020 @ 5:54 pm
Happy Birthday everyone!
You remind me of pictures I think I wrote about on Our Salon. My great-aunt sent me a picture of her parents on their honeymoon in Atlantic City sometime in the first part of the 20th century. The happy couple was accompanied by her sister, great-grandma sat on a mule, all were in the bathing dress of the time with Gibson Girl hairstyles.
Some years later I was flipping through a page of historic photos on the internet, came across one of the Atlantic City beach. I focused in on the picture and there were Great Grandma and Great Grandpa, the sister the mule and everything. The picture I had was a closer up of that picture.
Funny coincidence, out of the blue.
Koshersalaami
10/01/2020 @ 7:16 pm
Jonna,
I remember those photos vividly. It’s not just that you had a close-up, it’s that the photo from the historic collection was of your great grandparents’ picture being taken. That photo included the photographer from your photo. In fact, I wrote about that pair of photos in an email to Lezlie I think this morning. The two photos show your great grandparents from different angles.
Jonna Connelly
10/02/2020 @ 2:32 pm
Sadly, my memory is leaving me rapidly. I’m impressed that you remember all that detail.
Koshersalaami
10/02/2020 @ 4:11 pm
Jonna,
I remember because it made a huge impression on me at the time. I think I’d seen the photo in one of the online collections, and the odds that I’d ever come across the photo being taken by the camera in the other photo are just so long. If I knew how to get hold of whoever is packaging that collection for online, I think they’d be thrown a complete curve knowing that after a century the other photo from the scene was known and available. Displaying them as a pair would be insanely cool.
Art W. Stone
10/01/2020 @ 10:27 pm
I’ll read it again.
Happy Birthday.
Koshersalaami
10/02/2020 @ 12:23 am
Thank you
Rose Guastella
12/16/2020 @ 4:38 pm
Oh! Old family pictures and the history that goes with them. These are lovely, as are your memories.
I only knew one of my great-grandparents. My father’s grandmother was a tiny Sicilian woman who spoke no English. She lived with her spinster daughter in Brooklyn. My one memory of her, from when I was about 4 years old, is that she somehow talked my sister and I into sitting at her kitchen table with glasses of chocolate milk and straws, encouraging us to blow bubbles into the milk until it ran down the sides of the glasses. We are all making quite a mess and giggling, including Nonna, who was having as much fun as we were. When my mother came in to see what all the noise was about, she tried to stop my sister and I- but Nonna wouldn’t let her.
koshersalaami
12/16/2020 @ 7:34 pm
I’ve known people who knew a great great grandparent. I didn’t do that. On the other hand, other than my younger sister I’ve never known anyone who knew the majority of their great grandparents. I don’t know if she remembers one of them because she’s a bit younger than I am. My wife, on the other hand, knew one grandparent.
Tom Cordle
01/15/2021 @ 12:49 pm
We take for granted so many wonders, including photographs and this miraculous thing called the Internet, though the latter is a source of trouble, too. But it is important to keep in mind these wonders are merely tools; it is the humans that make that put them to good or evil purposes.
As for Ancestry, they recently informed me I have a close relative – one of my sisters. Duh.
jpHart
01/27/2022 @ 5:16 am
Koshersalaami:
Your work is real good, [Tom Cordle bring it on home c’mon now!] Not to worry. Jonathan Franzen’s recent NPR interview is apropos of your supposition or ‘inquisitive expose’. I hear you as well. Many times this incessant narcissistic lust and trivial red-thumbed self-effacement chokes the medium into a flibbertigibbet. Allow the crowd to cry out, you’ll find me beneath old neon or a single swayed light bulb — my lips jabbered — mine eyes electric upon Dr. Carl Jung.
Credit due as credit does. A peer group as any other with the serious new-ins and also rans beat up but damn strong, the angry and narcotized, the somnambulant– I question motive with all due respect. The other can’t be that *good*! Why I see him all over like manure at a doe-se-doe barn dance! You have an adroit knack for unpredictability.
I refresh my coffee.
The B & Ns you mention — all bookstores, libraries — will always be oases in the wasteland. The dangers always clear and present. The shrill bombast as inevitable as frost. Years ago when I left my home and family I learned that there is not a ‘better time’ anywhere than wading through *Love’s Body* or reading Sartre whilst the mellifluous street concertina player strolls half-grinning to the *Ladies of Calcutta*. The anthropologist callipygian waitress refilling the water, the television on the shelf aside straw-flower roses going on with Joe DiMaggio, the sounds of the bowling lanes as the traffic breathes at the corner–you know the wayward grocery bag on the soot-scoot breeze discombobulated, its white loops brisk as conundrum. Or the thrill of well preserved oxblood shoe paste, and its possibilities of fine print magically palimpsest as the yellow birds arrive like sunlight, the end of all rumor, no more kerfuffle, or other persnickety sesquipedalian obscurantism.
As a specific: now that March sash-shays through the cosmos, its ripple but a wink, a grin, a smell, and ubiquitous love.
On to the PROMISED LAND then! One of seven or eight or so billion in comfortable born-free sneakers!
Violence, hunger and thirst can become footnotes*
koshersalaami
01/27/2022 @ 9:12 am
Thank you..
I write about what interests me, what strikes me at the time, or sometimes what I think I can explain in ways I don’t see explained elsewhere. Though I have some specialties there’s no point in sticking to them, which is something you of all people get. When I was in OS I was known in some circles for writing about Judaism and about Israel, particularly given my name and avatar, but I actually wrote about economics more. I never wanted to be a writer, unlike everyone else on OS. I started blogging looking for conversations. I followed Jon Wolfman from a chatroom because he needed commenters to help build his traffic and initially I only commented on his threads, I didn’t even post. I didn’t know what blogging was but it made conversations easier than chat because I wasn’t limited to three lines and I wasn’t limited by the immediacy of time. The reason I still blog is actually the same: I’m looking for conversations. An audience is nice but I don’t blog for an audience so much as I blog for the community, which here at the moment is tiny but interesting.
I wish I understood you more. You’re making a choice that I’ve seen made twice before on OS, sort of, once with Arthur (I forget his last name) who grew to hate me because I think my style annoyed him and initially with James Emmerling who, when I first knew him, wrote in a similar style before he switched to prose. Prose did not make him less interesting. Your writing is similar to the others in its heavy use of imagery for communication but different in that your rhythms are so much more conversational. I may be misreading you because in your case it may not be entirely about poetry but about a series of references I’m not quite familiar with and sort of feel I should be.
koshersalaami
01/15/2021 @ 3:17 pm
I’m not on Ancestry.
jpHart
01/27/2022 @ 11:19 am
Artificial Intelligence has changed the modus operandi of all things considered, good buddy.
We the responsible know that WW III will have no history even in the land of the free.
Geeze Tucker Carlson’s boot glossing of Premier Vladimir Putin the other was pathetic.
All I can do is short the dips and buy the bounce — don’t try this where the buffalo roam!
Yeah the site is slow although radical and intellectual.
I seriously miss Safe Bet Amy’s mayonnaise jokes.
koshersalaami
01/27/2022 @ 12:22 pm
There are things I don’t miss.
jpHart
02/17/2022 @ 3:45 pm
GIVE PEACE A CHANCE. (Ultimate Mix, 2020) – Plastic Ono Band (official music video HD)
[‘pologies for gettin’ so cyber ‘helter-skelter’ ish Koshersalaami … earlier my old friends Gloria and Omar texted me a snapshot with them beaming/basking in beach attire (whoa!) perched on a sun-glinted aluminum colored Yugo {…}]
koshersalaami
02/17/2022 @ 9:59 pm
Wow, a Yugo. That should be a very specific way to date a photo.
I found out today on YouTube that much to my consternation some notable right-wingers are making a very similar argument to mine. These are not bedfellows I want but I call it as I see it. They are also way more likely to be fine with a dictator than I am in that they don’t appreciate or support democracy here. I think they admire Putin, which I don’t; I think I just get his situation. Were I in different company here I’m afraid I’d run into the accusation that because of the similarity of our positions they are in fact my source. I used to run into this accusation about Israel because I’d reach similar conclusions for similar reasons than those in Israel making arguments for public consumption, but I wasn’t reading the Israeli press. (I still don’t.) So the term ‘Hasbara” was thrown at me all the time. When I finally read an actual Hasbara source because I wanted to find out what in Hell these people were talking about I understood very quickly why they assumed Hasbara was my source, but in fact I learned of its existence from my critics. I tend to invent my own wheels or reinvent them.
I don’t like the idea of a war but I still think one is likely. Before I was born, the question was asked as a result of 1948 “Who lost China?” I think I’ve been watching thirty years’ worth of Who lost Russia? In business I have to worry about what’s important to my customers. In diplomacy one should be worrying about what’s important to the nations we interact with. Not that I should be surprised at that failure, but it’s still stupid and pointless.