Follies, Foibles, and Family Fun

This past weekend, all 6 of us first cousins on my dad's side were together in probably almost two decades at an event where headstones did not dominate the landscape. No kidding. We've been together for funerals and unveilings, but no happy events. To be fair, this is pretty much my fault because I'm in Minnesota and they're all on the east coast. But this, the first bat mitzvah in the newest generation, was not to be missed. 

We  4

Preparation for the trip was a big deal. Plane ticket, hotel, clothes. East coast events are different from here and I wanted to get it all right. I also noticed that last night (Sunday) happened to be our Grandma Sarah's 44th yahrzeit and we would all be together in shul on Shabbat morning. 

That stopped me in my tracks. RH is Grandma's first great-great grandchild. RH's grandfather, RE, was Grandma's first grandchild. I was at RE's bar mitzvah. It was a huge event in my life. I remember it vividly. There were only 4 first-cousins in those days, and we cannot possibly be that much older than we were then. Or not.  Truth is, we 4 are all over 70. Impossible!

RE's daughter, DK, was the first great-grandchild and she born in just enough time to know her Great Grandma Sarah, even if it was briefly. 

RH's bat mitzvah, the first of her generation, is a huge family milestone. I marvel that we were all together for this. I wish I had a picture, but alas, herding us is like herding cats even though all 6 of us are old-er....and the next generation of second cousins are all adults... who just think we're weird. But that's okay, because we pretty much are. 

Still, as I prepared for the trip east, I thought a lot about us as kids, and the impact Grandma had on all of us. I wanted to give RH something besides a cheque, something that would have significant meaning. Something that would be a physical link to Grandma Sarah. 

Turns out, it wasn't a stretch. 

I happen to have in my possession a whole lotta hankies. See, our very British grandmother was big on things like hankies. She used to buy plain, very fine Irish linen handkerchief squares, then tat or crochet the edges. She spent endless hours teaching me how to do that, as well as embroider. (And yes, I still can do both …especially now that the cataracts are gone.)

 

Most of the hankies in the bag belonged to my mom, her daughter-in-law, and some even had her name, Helen, or her initial H on them. But a dozen hankies were simply edged, most in the variegated cotton string she favoured. Since my own mom was completely inept at that needlework stuff, it was easy to recognize my Grandma's exquisite handiwork. 

Sarah and Moishe Schwaidelson have nine great-grandchildren: six girls and three boys. They now have five great-great-grandchildren: three girls and two boys. Well, this is girls' week. I took 8* handkerchiefs, laundered and starched them just as Grandma Sarah taught me, ironed them to sharpness, and brought them with me to the Bat Mitzvah. They were distributed to the great and great-great granddaughters. There were lots of sighs, ooh, and ahs. Amongst the granddaughters, there was a fair amount of emotion going on. [Note: the 9th handkerchief will go to Little Miss here in Minnesota.] 

See, we are an American family. We don't always agree. We have serious differences amongst us. But in the end, we are a family. Somehow, we manage to come together for the important stuff, to sit together, to be together...even when it's really, really hard. But we do it no matter the faults, the foibles, and the follies. It ain't perfect, but it's just us. Grandma would expect no less. We are a net-work; we catch each other when we fall, then push each other back up. It's interesting to note that RE, the grandfather of the the bat mitzvah girl, and my Big Brother are BFFs and have been for as long as I can remember. (They even have matching Groucho/WC Fields cufflinks.) I love my cousins unconditionally. We share a collective memory no one else has. We are us.

The Saturday night party was a hoot. I even wore high heels and made it through the night. Sitting at a long table, all the cousins and the kids who were able to be there bounced around talking the night away, catching up, exchanging stories, and generally laughing a lot. I was thrilled to finally have a chance to talk to one of the girls who just graduated from med school and has started her residency in OB/GYN. Her sister is in the reality TV end of the industry but we still got to talk shop about the POMEGRANATE since she now has a copy of the pitch-deck. Another great-granddaughter recently graduated and is moving toward a career in conservation and environment. Her sister is the family baker and it's a thrill to listen to her talk about her craft. Very different paths for some rather strong women. None of that surprises me. 

The short one is 
Grandma Sarah

Grandma Sarah and her sister Jane boarded the S.S. St. Paul in Southampton, England on March 28th, 1908, and arrived in the Port of New York on April 6th, 1908, with £10 between them. Grandma was 14 and listed as a pupil, her sister was 11 and listed as a child. They almost got sent back because they didn't have enough money to enter New York.  Aunt Yuddis talked them off the boat. They survived; they thrived. 

And you wonder why her daughters, granddaughters, great-granddaughters, and great-great granddaughters are tough? We come from tought stuff. 

The Wifely Person's Tip o'the Week

Keep your friends close, your family closer.

Even when you're all mad at each other,

you still share blood, DNA, and upbringing.

Odds are one of us might be your organ donor.