Time in My Family

my grandfather in his shoe repair shop

TIME IN MY FAMILY

Well, that title might be a bit misleading. I’m really talking about the watches we have had in our family. After my mother passed away, I found a zip-lock bag in her things. It contained a pocket watch with a strap attached. Mother had left a hand-written note in the bag . It said that the watch had belonged to her father and she remembered always seeing it tacked to the wall in his shoe repair shop. She said that she wanted the watch to go to my son—she thought it would look good with his suits when he was a lawyer.

There is another pocket watch that I have and it also involves my son. Years ago—after my paternal grandparents passed away, I was looking at some of the things that had been theirs. There was a box of old pocket watches, most of them were in silver (silver-tone) cases, but the case of one was different. It has a pinkish gold tone to it, not yellowish brass. It didn’t work but my father took it to the jeweler and had it repaired. Unfortunately, the jeweler replaced the button on the winding stem with a yellowish brass one—not really noticeable, but I knew. The watch was the style that had a covering that opened on the front and the back. When my son was little and watched some children’s show on TV where the characters had a “magic” something (I don’t remember exactly what the thing was—I’m just too old to recall something like that), he asked if he could use my pocket watch to play like the characters on the show. I let him and he had a lot of fun with it. By the way, that watch is safely back in my jewelry box.

Another watch that has seen multi-generation use in our family is my daughter’s Mickey Mouse watch. When she was younger (much younger), she got that particular watch for Christmas one year. She has asked for it and wore for some time, then set it aside (actually, she said I could have it, if I wanted it). Once again, I put a watch in my jewelry box (yes, it is a large jewelry box). Three or four months back, I came across the watch and had the battery replaced. I showed it to my granddaughter and told her how her mommy used to wear it. My granddaughter was fascinated by it, not because she could tell time or because it had belonged to her mommy (remember, she’s only three). No, what she really interested her about the watch was the two buttons on the left side of the watch. When you press one of the buttons the song It’s a small World After All plays and when the other button was pressed it plays The Mickey Mouse Song—you know M-I-C-K-E-Y-M-O-U-S-E. Mickey was on the watch face and his arms were the minute and hour hands. When the music played the hands moved faster and in time. When the song ended, the hands reversed and went back to the correct time. My granddaughter played both songs over and over and over and over. Fortunately, the volume on the watch wasn’t very loud.

This are other watches in my jewelry box, but those are the most interesting—at least, to me. Who knows, maybe if I think hard enough (remember, I getting older), I’ll remember more stories about those watches that are just sitting in that dark vastness known as my JEWELRY BOX.

Thanksgiving and Popcorn

my sweet granddaughter

THANKSGIVING AND POPCORN

Thanksgiving is this week and I am so excited!!! I love this time of the year with all its get-togethers, food-eating, and food-preparing. It’s not just excitement about all the “busy things,” no, it’s just that each of those things makes me remember what I’m truly thankful for.

The get-together means that I have family to love and who love me, especially my sweet granddaughter. Last year, she was still getting used to being her with her new family. But this year, she “knows” us—she grins and runs to me when she sees me, she has started bringing books for me to read to her in my office/library, and she even had her pre-school teacher write my name (chest puffing out in pride) on a strip on her “Thankful pumpkin”—in all reality, I probably got a whole strip to myself because nothing else would fit after the teacher printed “Grandmommy.” The pumpkin wasn’t huge, after all. Also, this is the fifth anniversary of my husband’s liver transplant. He’s strong and hearty—well, he’s strong and hearty enough to keep house and do the laundry (seriously, a writer’s got to have time to write, and I am a writer).

The food-eating makes me thankful that God has generously poured out His blessings on us all year long—not only our food, but our home, our marriage, our family, our friends, and so many more blessings. And most especially Jesus and His sacrifice.

The food-preparing means that I’m healthy enough to do the things I love to do. Even though I have RA, diabetes, and a few other thing going on in my body, I can cook (which I love to do), I can write, and I can play with my granddaughter. Being able to do all of those things is due in large part because of the blessing of having wonderful doctors who take care of me.

One thing I’m going to TRY and do again this year is something we had done years ago when my children were younger—tell the story of the three grains of corn. I had read that the Pilgrims had a very hard time in the New World. At one point, their daily ration of food was three grains of corn (now, I don’t know if this is really true, but it led to a way of showing what we are thankful for today). I would put three grains of unpopped popcorn on everyone’s plate and before we ate, I would pass a small dish around and everyone would put their popcorn in, telling three things they were thankful for. I love hearing the things. The kids hated doing it. We finally stopped doing it when the kids BEGGED me to stop making them it. But we have added a new generation to our family, SO-O-O-O, I think it’s time to try it again. After all, our granddaughter needs to be reminded to be thankful and needs to hear what others are thankful for. Do you think it will go over any better this time than last? Who knows, but a mother/grandmommy has to try.

Memory Monday: Halloween Through the Years in Our Family

my son as a gorilla

HALLOWEEN THROUGH THE YEARS IN OUR FAMILY

Growing up, I don’t remember doing a lot for Halloween, but then we lived in the country for a lot of those years. I know that when we did live in town, there was a lot of Trick-or-Treating going. During the early years of our marriage and children, we had lots of kids coming to our door for their treats. But that has changed now. No one comes door-to-door anymore, at least not in our neighborhood. They all go to community activities or church Trunk or Treats. If you aren’t familiar with Trunk or Treat, it’s when the adults gather in the parking lot, decorate the open trunks of their cars, and wait for the little ones—all dressed up, of course—to come by so they can get their treats.

Costumes have changed, too. I have an old black and white picture of my older sister and brother with me. They were wearing scary masks and I was crying (I was only 2 or 3 at the time). Those masks were the thin plastic kind, with a rubber band stapled on each side to hold it on. When the rubber band broke or slipped out from the staples, well, the mask was useless—unless you wanted to hold it up to your face all the time, and who wants to do that. My children dressed up when they were little—usually in “creative” costumes. We never went out and bought full outfits for them. These days, my son buys his own costume. The first one he bought was a gorilla. That’s him pictured above. This year, he got a T-rex inflatable costume which is almost 7-feet tall. He wore that to the church Trunk or Treat and let the little ones hunt for mini-dinosaurs in a portable sandbox (our granddaughter doesn’t know that her sandbox isn’t in our backyard right now).

my son's costume

Speaking of my granddaughter, she went to school as Anna from Frozen. Of course, she was adorable—See how adorable below (naturally, all grandmas think their granddaughters are adorable, no matter what the situation):

she'd rather be playing with cars

What are your memories of Halloween? What was your favorite candy to get? Do little ones still come to your house Trick or Treating?

Memory Monday: Children and Their Hair

my daughter in a bonnet that hid her almost bald head

CHILDREN AND THEIR HAIR

From the time our daughter was born until she was in elementary school, she never had her hair cut. It wasn’t because we were against getting her hair cut (although my husband loved long hair on girls). When she was born, she had a nice covering of brown hair. Everything changed when she was about five months old. We had stopped at the grocery store for an item or two—not enough to get a cart or anything. While the checker rang up my purchase, I laid my daughter on the end of the counter and pulled back her blanket so she wouldn’t get too hot. I was shocked when I pulled the sides of that blanket away from her head—most of the hair from the sides of her head stayed with the blanket. Basically, all she had left was the strip on top of her head and to long tufts above each ear. I was able to twist the two tufts above her ears into pin curls which held those plastic blow clips. And I loved dresses that had matching bonnets, like the one in the picture above. Her hair grew back slowly and when her hair was long enough, I put her hair up in pigtails—so no need for a haircut for years.

Now, our son was a different matter. He was born with a full head of black hair and never lost any of it like his sister had. I still remember how my husband gently held down that poor screaming baby (he was only about 5 months old) and told me to trim his hair—my husband didn’t like long hair on boys. Well, I cut my son’s hair as his face turned red from screaming. But after that day, I made it a point to take a snip here and a snip there whenever I had him playing with this bath toys. I don’t think he ever caught on. But eventually that didn’t work because I wasn’t very good at shaping his hair properly. So I took him to a barber shop. Only problem was that the place scared the little three-year-old. I tried to talk him into sitting in the chair, but he cried and the female barber said that she wouldn’t cut his hair with him so upset. In defeat, we went home, but amazingly, a few minutes later as we were watching Sesame Street, the skit with the haircut song came on. We sang with the characters and I got my son to agree to go back and get his hair cut. This time the barber was able to make my baby look like a little boy.

As a new generation has come to our family, our daughter took my granddaughter to get her first haircut. At the children’s hair salon, they have a TV for the children, there is a play area, and when the hair cut was over, the hair stylist sprinkled glitter in my granddaughter’s hair and took a picture of her “first hair cut.” No fuss. No crying.

My, how things have changed! 

Memory Monday: Photos in Our Family

PHOTOS IN OUR FAMILY

My mother always loved pictures—having her own taken and taking pictures of her family. I remember how she would take us kids outside—in the bright sunlight, and then tell us to open our eyes so she could take our picture. (Later, by the time her grandchildren came along, she had a camera with a flash, so all those lovely darlings didn’t have to go outside and open their eyes wide.) Through the years when money was tight, she would save up until she could afford to send off several rolls of film and get prints made. When she passed away, I found a lot of pictures of Mother from her teens forward. Even after my father passed away, she kept getting her picture made every couple of years at our Walmart photo studio. I also found all those envelopes with strips of negatives from the rolls of film she sent off to get printed from the fifties through the eighties or nineties.

Well, I never was interested in taking pictures, but my husband was. Which is fortunate for our children, otherwise we wouldn’t have any pictures to display when we had a celebration for our son’s Eagle Scout ceremony or a video to show of our daughter growing up for her wedding.

Recently, my husband got a new camera—his first in years. He’s still learning how to use it. He did get an interesting picture of our granddaughter. It’s the one shown above. By the way, she is wearing the glasses from the Potato Head toys that my children played with. And she insists on wearing them upside down. Ahh, young ones—when they set their minds on something, you can’t change them.

While I’m not interested in taking photos, I am so thankful that there are others in our family who do. This way the generations to come will have faces to put with names as they look back at those who came before them.

Memory Monday: Easter and Our Family

My son with paper bunny hat and ears

EASTER AND OUR FAMILY

Easter is next Sunday. Growing up, we didn’t have a lot of Easter traditions. We went to church every Sunday, so going there for Easter was not anything different—although we often had a new dress, or something like that. I even have some pictures where my sisters and I wore those cute little girl hats. We always ate Sunday dinner together at the table and my mother always had roast or Swiss steak (her version), or fried chicken. I don’t ever remember having an Easter egg hunt at home, or anywhere else, growing up.

Things weren’t much different for my children growing up—church every week, Sunday dinner at the table, and sometimes a new outfit. The biggest different with our children is that we had Easter egg hunts in our back yard. My husband would hide the eggs, the children would find them, then they would hide the eggs and he and I would find them. Sometimes we repeated the whole thing again.

In the picture above, my son is wearing the bunny hat with ears that he got from Sunday School. I think I still have that hat in my craft pattern box. Maybe I’ll make one for my granddaughter.

What traditions do/did you and your family have for Easter? 

Memory Monday: The Day I Became My Mother

Me with my mother and daughter

THE DAY I BECAME MY MOTHER

I remember the day very well. I was sitting in a recliner in our living room, watching my children in the hall as they examined and discussed our new cell phone. Now you need to understand that this was a number of years ago. My daughter had recently turned sixteen and we had given her permission to date (yes, I know that my husband and I are old-fashioned). We decided to break down and get one of those contraptions—after all, we never knew what situations she might get into out with a boy and all.

Anyway, back to that day. As I sat in that chair, I realized that I had become my mother. Often when my brother and his family came to visit Mother, we had a family dinner. It could always be counted on that sometime while we were eating, or just after, there would be a discussion about computers. At that time, we had Apple ones—not the fancy ones of today. No, we both had the kind that didn’t have hard drives, just floppy discs. We discussed the pros and cons of the different styles.

I remember glancing over at Mother at these times while she stared off into space—not that she didn’t want us all there nor did she have any kind of medical problem. She loved her family and always welcomed them to her home. No, the problem was that she just had no idea of what we were talking about.

That was how I felt that day as I sat in my chair, listening to my children discussing something that I had no understanding about—how you set this or how this feature works or, or, or. It was all just beyond me.

Separated by time, Mother and I had become one while our children discussed new things that are and things that were to come.

Mother never had a computer, but I do have one of those new fancy cell phones (which I hardly ever carry). My son gave me his old one when he purchased a new one—now I can take pictures as well as make phone calls (if I remember to take it with me). Everything else about that iPhone is just beyond me (don’t even get me started on texting).

I now better understand that faraway gaze Mother used to have in her eyes when we jabbered away about computers. I wonder what new invention will cause my daughter to realize that she has become me one day.

Memory Monday: A New Generation in Our Family

A NEW GENERATION IN OUR FAMILY

The title of this blog is FAMILIES ACROSS THE GENERATIONS. Well, we have added a new generation—officially—to our family this week!!! I have mentioned her a few times in past blogs, but I could never show her face until she was officially ours.

The first picture below is one I posted on my second blog post. It is my great-grandmother and her family, including my grandmother. The second picture is my grandmother, my mother, me, and my daughter (and son). The picture above is our latest "three generations" picture—me, my daughter, and my newly-adopted granddaughter. That’s a total of six generations—six generations of love shared, six generations of memories made and passed on, six generations that take us from the past to the present and on to the future.

May God bless the generations who come after me as He has blessed those who came before.

Memory Monday: Outdoor Cooking in Our Family

My Mother and Daddy

OUTDOOR COOKING IN OUR FAMILY

Growing up, my mother did all the cooking (well, until she started working outside our home and us girls were old enough to help with the cooking. Not all of her lessons took really well—I remember the time first I fried chicken. It had a beautiful golden crust. I still remember Daddy’s first words after he bit into it, “This is raw!” Well, I had forgotten to start it on time—to be truthful, I remembered to start the chicken only 10-15 minutes before he was supposed to get home for lunch. So, I just turned the heat up to the highest it would go. How was I to know that the meat would still be raw if the crust was that beautiful golden color? But I digress.) The one thing Daddy—yes, we called him “Daddy” even when we were grown—did cook, or rather grill, was steaks. In his later years, he got a grill and would charcoal them. Mother loved it and would make sure he cooked enough so they could have them for several meals—and she wouldn’t have to cook herself.

Well, my son also likes to cook outside. Only he doesn’t grill, he smokes brisket, pork, and ribs. My mouth waters just thinking about how good he makes all of those. He’s even gotten me interested in helping him. He makes the rub and covers the meat with it. I put them in the smoker at night, take it out in the morning and put it in the oven for another ten hours, then slice it up—great division of labor. But then, he keeps his smoker at our house, so I really can use it anytime I want—like when I made smoked mac and cheese!

I wanted to tell about this because just I got a Lodge cast-iron hibachi and I’m having fun learning how to use it. Now I can have the fun of cooking like Daddy and my son. By the way, my son is named after Daddy—they both have the same middle name.

Do you like to cook outdoors? If so, do you grill or smoke? What is your favorite thing to make?

Memory Monday: My Mother, the Seamstress

My mother in 1947

MY MOTHER, THE SEAMSTRESS OF THE FAMILY

As long as I can remember, my mother sewed. She had an old treadle Singer sewing machine when I was growing up. Later, she got an electric one. She made a lot of her children’s clothes—after all, there were four girls in the family. She sewed my wedding dress, as well as my brides’ maids dresses. Even after I married, she made many things for me. One time when she and my father came for a visit, she brought me 10 pantsuits (OK, that happened in the 70s), all with coordinating shells that she had also sewn. After my father passed away, she moved to the same town where my family lived. After that, “Grandma will fix it” became a common saying around our house if you had a button come off or a seam rip. She sewed all the patches on my daughter’s Girl Scout uniforms, as well as my son’s Boy Scout patches—and that was a lot since he became an Eagle Scout.

Well, the years have passed and my mother’s gone. And the mantle had to eventually move from one generation to another. I knew how to sew—I took Home Ec for three years and made a very pretty green suit. After I married, I even made my husband an unlined suit—he wore it often. But I never really liked sewing. No, that’s not true—I hate sewing!!!

I was thrilled when our daughter wanted a sewing machine. So for her birthday a while back, we got her one. I figured out it operated and planned to teach her. I also asked if I could keep it for a little bit to repair something (I can’t remember what that was now since this happened a couple of years ago. But that’s another story.) Since I had the machine, she asked me if I could repair her husband’s pants. She brought a couple of pairs to my house and it only took me two years to get them fixed. He has his pants back as of last week, and maybe, my daughter will learn to sew this summer.

If not, I may have to wait until my two-year-old granddaughter gets old enough to sew and then the saying will be “Sophie can fix it.” 

Memory Monday: Repeating Dates

My Mother

INTERESTING HOW DATES KEEP REPEATING IN OUR FAMILY

My mother was born in January (many years ago). I never could remember which day of the month—the 30^th or the 31^st. When I said that to my mother one time, she said she was born on the same day as Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

That has gotten me to thinking how other dates seem to repeat for those in my family. My parents married on July 16^th—the same day of the month that my dad’s sister and her husband had married a couple of years before. And if you think they planned it that way, you would be wrong. My parents only knew each other for about six weeks when they decided to marry. On July 15^th, they (along with another couple who would act as witnesses) went to get married, but there was some problem (I don’t remember what it was not). They had to wait until the next day and they tried it again. This time the deed was done.

February 15^th is another date that is another special date in our family. On that day, my parents-in-law married, a niece was born, as was my granddaughter.

August 12^th is yet another date that is the birthday of two members of my family—my grandfather and my son.

Do any dates keep repeating in your family?

Throwback Thursday: Boy in Fancy Dress

From my "old and known" file: 

“Think I’ll be a lawyer when I grow up. I already know how to dress the part.”

Memory Monday: The Tradition of the Christmas Present Ornaments

THE TRADITION OF THE CHRISTMAS PRESENT ORNAMENTS

When my husband was five years old, he wanted a watch. His parents told him that he had to learn to tell time before they would get him one, so he went to his grandmother and she taught him. At Christmas, he had a package under the tree with a red, loopy ribbon bow on it. As you probably already guessed, the package contained a watch. But there is more to the story—something that affects what my family does today. His mother saved that red, loopy ribbon bow and put it on his “main” Christmas present the next year, and the year after, and the year after, for as long as she lived.

My husband and I dated for two years before we married. During that time, they put a blue package ornament on my present from them and continued to do so as long as my mother-in-law lived.

After her death, my father-in-law gave us their Christmas decorations and he just used the 12-inch ceramic Christmas tree that his mother had given his wife. That red, loopy ribbon bow and the blue package ornament were among the things he gave us. We kept up the tradition of using those package ornaments through the years.

We were married about ten years when our daughter was born. We bought her a Holly Hobby package decoration to keep the tradition going. When our son was born, we got a green and white stick horse for his “main” present.

My husband was five when the red, loopy ribbon bow first appeared on his present, so it has seen about 65 Christmases. We’ve been married for 44 years, so my blue ornament has been used about 45 times. Holly Hobby and the stick horse have been on presents for more than 30 years each. When our daughter married over 10 years ago, we got her husband a snowman for his package decoration. It has been on his packages ever since.

The next generation has come along with our granddaughter. Last year—her first Christmas with us, we got her a pink heart to attach to her present. We will be using it again this year.

Oh, there is one more thing about the present ornaments. We never put names on these presents. Everyone knows by the ornament who gets the present and everyone knows that the present came from us.

One of these days, we will have to pass down these package decorations to the next generation. I have every faith that our children will keep the tradition going.

Memory Monday: Our Christmas Tree

3 generations around the Christmas tree in 1982

OUR CHRISTMAS TREE

It is that time of the year!!! I love the last two months of the year. And this year is even better. First of all, by Thanksgiving weekend, I already had all my Christmas shopping done. Then the day after Thanksgiving, my husband and I got out the tree and the decorations. I spent the afternoon putting on the ornaments. Now, this is my favorite part of my favorite time of the year. I have never been one to want a themed tree—like snowflakes or teddy bears—or one that was color-coordinated—like silver and blue or gold and red. No, my trees have always been memory ones.

I didn’t really plan it that way. It’s just the way it happened and I liked it, so I continued doing it. Both sets of our parents always had lights and tinsel garlands on their tree. I can’t remember if they gave us any of those, but I do know that we couldn’t afford to buy ornaments—I was a college student and my husband had only a part-time job. We didn’t have the internet at that time, so I tried to figure out what we could do to decorate a tree. Months before Christmas, I figured out that we could save the shells from the eggs we used for breakfast and use them for ornaments. I would poke holes in the end of each egg and blow the egg yolks and whites out into a bowl. I almost blew my eardrums out doing this because I didn’t know until much later that I should have inserted a skewer and broken up the yolk before I tried to blow it out that little hole at the end. Still, I saved about four dozen intact shells. My husband and I dyed the shells with Easter egg dye the night of the only night launch by NASA. We used those egg ornaments for several years, then slowly started to replace them. Still, they were special, and for the last 44 years, we have had at least one eggshell ornament on our Christmas tree each year.

Later as my husband’s grandmother and parents passed down some of their ornaments, our trees became memory Christmas tree with each of those ornaments hanging on our tree. Then, our children made ornaments in school that we just had to add to our tree. A great-aunt and her daughter sent our children some very special ornaments that still hang on our tree. I made some ceramic ornaments, among several other homemade ones, when I was in my “crafty stage.” When our daughter married and moved out, she took a few of her ornaments and a couple of our egg ones, as well.

When our son was in grade school, he saw one of those Hallmark ads about getting a special ornament each year. He asked if we could do that, too. For those, we tried to select things that were important to him each year—like Boy Scouts, computers, and cats. A couple of years ago, he moved into a new apartment and I passed on his special ornaments, but I also gave him a couple of our egg ornaments.

This year, we are starting a new group of memory ornaments on our tree. As I have said before, our daughter and her husband are adopting a two-year-old girl. I have already started her ornament collection, dating the back of each one. This year’s ornament is a see-through snowman because she loves “nowmen.” And Grandmommy has to get her little darling what she wants.

Memory Monday: What I Give Thanks For

My father, grandfather, and step-grandmother

WHAT I GIVE THANKS FOR

I love Thanksgiving and not just because of the turkey. Actually, we don’t have turkey. We have smoked meat. Last year, it was brisket and ribs. This year, it is pulled pork. See, we are equal opportunity meat-eaters—as long as we can smoke it on my son’s Traeger smoker. Now with that explained, let me share what I love about Thanksgiving. It is the THANKSGIVING. There is so much to be thankful for—the memories of those who have gone before me, leaving lessons lovingly taught about right and wrong, about helping, sharing, and giving, lessons lived out before me in the lives of my parents, grandparents, assorted aunts and uncles, as well as the stories passed down about those who lived before me. The lessons I value most  deal with faith. I have been blessed to have seen the faith of my parents. I loved to hear the way my father prayed, especially in his later years and the way my mother always spoke about how God had blessed her in simple little ways, like how He washed her car when He sent rain.

I am thankful that my father, as well as a large number of other men in my family, took up arms and fought for our country. My father is pictured above in his Army Air Corp uniform during WWII. I have family who also fought for America through the years, including a number who fought for our freedom from England in the American Revolution. There are also several of my generation who have served in our military, and for them, I am also thankful.

I am thankful for my wonderful husband of 44 years and the way he cherishes me, the way he takes care of the house so I can have time to write, and the way has been a wonderful father and example to our children through the years.

I am thankful for the generations that are coming after me—our son and our daughter, along with her husband and daughter. There is so much thankfulness in my heart for our granddaughter and the privilege and blessing of taking care of her while her parents work.

There are so many more blessings for which I’m thankful—things that God pours out on my family and me every day of my life. Thank you, God, for loving me, for blessing me, for Jesus. Thank You.

What fills your heart with thankfulness as Thanksgiving Day approaches (and every day)?

Memory Monday: Summer Family Holiday Get-Togethers and How They Will Change

My husband and I and our daughter, who now is about to be a mother herself

OUR SUMMER FAMILY HOLIDAY GET-TOGETHERS AND HOW THEY’RE GOING TO CHANGE

Today is Memorial Day—a day to remember those who have died fighting for our country. Memorial Day was first known as Decoration Day when people decorated the graves of the fallen soldiers from the Civil War.  It is also one of the non-birthday/Mother’s Days/Father Days summer days all my children sometimes come to my house for lunch (the other days being Independence Day and Memorial Day—you know, the holidays in the summer when everyone is off work and school is out).
We always have the same thing—sort of a tradition. The menu is hot dogs, chips, and some kind of carbonated drinks. Sometimes, I’ll add baked beans or fruit or anything else I feel like making—usually some kind of dessert. This year it is individual strawberry shortcakes.
Afterwards, we will sit around and watch TV, play some kind of game, or just talk. But this will be the last of the “usual” summer holidays for us. Wednesday, our first grandchild is scheduled to “arrive.” YEAH!!! YEAH!!! YEAH!!!This two-year old granddaughter will change every holiday from here on out.  A new generation—maybe, new traditions. Maybe, next year, we’ll have something different for those summer holiday get-togethers. I just have to wait and see what my new granddaughter likes (can you say this grandma is going to be wrapped around those little fingers?)

Memory Monday: Family Facial Traits Across the Generations

my sister and my mother

FAMILY FACIAL TRAITS ACROSS THE GENERATIONS

I have always found it interesting how family looks pass from generation to generation, sometimes passing from one generation to the next, sometimes skipping several generations and suddenly showing up again.

I noticed this when my son grew first grew his beard. The hair on his face, though thick and black, grew along his jaw lines on both sides of his face. No matter how long he had the beard, it stayed like that. It also looked just like the picture of my mother’s Mennonite ancestors, so I figured it was just part of his “genes.” That was until I received a picture of my father’s grandfather (who was never a Mennonite). They had the same beardline (I don’t know if there is such a word, but it fits). When I showed it to my son, he stood in front of the bathroom mirror—looking at himself, then at the picture, then back at himself.

I also was surprised when I went through my mother’s pictures after she passed away. I found two that really surprised me. I guess because I don’t notice facial features as much as I should (a writer need to take note of what her characters look like, but that is one of my weak spots), I never realized how much my older sister and my mother looked alike when they were younger. Below are the pictures I’m talking about. What I noticed when I first saw these two picture was the same tilt of the head, the same smile, the same chin.

my mother

my sister

When I told my daughter that I was going to blog about how much my mother’s picture looked like my sister, she said just like she and I look alike. (Sorry, I had to take a moment and look at the family pictures that line our hall just to make sure of what I am going to write next.) And she is so right—same chin, same cheekbones, although she has my mother’s smile, while my son has mine—funny, I’d never noticed that before. I may have to go back and carefully examine the pictures I have of my ancestors. Maybe, I find some others who have my smile. By the way, my son is also the only one in our immediate family who has brown eyes—you have to go back to his grandfather to find those.
Who do you look like? Which of your facial characteristics have been handed down across the generations? Hairline? Shape of your smile? Earlobes? Eye color?