Uncle Andrew’s Old Photo Album
Many of the photographs were taken on old tin plates that produced brownish prints. Most are fading now. Too many of their young faces are all but gone. It saddens me that in some of the photographs there are just the clothes standing there smiling back at us. It never occurred to me that my grandmother once had a tiny waist or that she was just a tad taller than the boy she married. Andrew was the first born of over a dozen. He had snapshots of aunts and uncles so young not even their offspring can name them. I sit among the images wondering what was going on moments before they were taken....
Read MoreThe Empress of Farewells
My grandmother was the empress of farewells. She was born in England and had seen the Queen waving to soldiers being shipped out to sea. Her mother was a concert violinist with groupies to whom, I was told, she waved a silk scarf as she passed them by to get into her carriage and back to her hotel. Somewhere along the line, Grandmother learned to make a to-do each time she said goodbye. Everyone had to be hugged and walked to the door. When the last of them was out, she would stand on the porch and watch as her visitors disappeared down the moss covered steps that led to the street below. If...
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