(no subject)
This is going to be basically all about family stuff, so... yeah. Probably not very interesting.
Anyways.
Yesterday I saw my baby cousin Naomi for the first time in three years. Actually, "baby cousin" isn't very accurate at all; it's common knowledge that a girl of five years is no longer a "baby", but a big grown up person. I was amazed. I hadn't seen the kid since she was a mere two, when she knew a few phrases and was shy as a button. Now... she's a chatterbox. (Still incredibly shy, but she warms up to you over time.) She is beautiful and polite in the way five year olds are, and she can draw better than me too.
Well, it sort of hit me that she, after my brother, is my closest sibling. She is actually a... person. A talking, walking, dancing person. She danced to instrumental Beatles music for a half hour straight, and it was the most adorable and amazing and hilarious and perfect thing I have ever seen. My whole entire life I wanted a little sister. Yesterday I realized I actually have one. I love her to death.
Today.
Today I was sitting at the computer, much like I am now, and I glanced to the bookshelf cabinet on my left. There are many books in it, old and new, mostly in Russian, kid books and dictionaries and spy novels. I have glanced at this bookshelf cabinet many times in my life, and have sort of taken it in as a whole without really paying much attention. Today, though, I saw a photo sticking out on the bottom, and realized the bottom shelf, the shelf that I usually scan over in my act of taking in the whole bookshelf cabinet as a whole, was filled with many photo albums.
Now, it is also common knowledge that the Nathanson parents are avid photographers. The Nathanson boys' entire childhood has been documented from the moment I was born to the moment my parents split up. I own and have looked through close to 50 albums (I wish I was kidding) of pictures of me at every stage and age of my life up to this point. What I didn't know, however, is this photography bug extends far beyond my dear old mum and dad.
There were five photo albums on the bottom shelf. I looked through the first big one, the one with the photo sticking out, and was not surprised to see me as a nine year old playing soccer in Miami, my grandparents seeing my family off to America in '97, or my brother and I as five year olds at the Ramat-Gan Zoo. I had seen all those pictures before. I put back the photo album and decided to just glance at the next one, expecting to see more of the millions of pictures of my brother and I on the various shenanigan adventures of my childhood.
Except, when I opened the second album, the first picture was of my mom as a five year old. Now, in my entire 19 years of living, I had seen some pictures of my mom as a University student, or pregnant with me, and I think I may have, once or twice, seen my mom as a teenager, though I don't remember it. But as I flipped through the album, I saw my mom as a baby, my mom as a three year old, my aunt as a baby, the two sisters playing, my aunt dancing as a five year old to a row of dolls, my mom entering first grade. And every picture was perfectly labeled, and dated, and in pristine condition.
Two things struck me as I looked through the album. The first was the somewhat creepy realization that my mom, as a teenager, looked a lot like Anne Frank, only a little more beautiful. I always thought that Anne Frank was a very pretty girl, but my mom was even prettier. And the resemblance was uncanny, at least in my mind. The second realization I had was that I understood I hadn't an inkling of an idea what my mom, my aunt, and my grandparents were like, both in looks and personality, pre-1990. And it turns out they were a smiling, happy group. Back then, cameras were expensive (60's Soviet Russia), and most picture were candid, without poses, on the spot. The happy family was always together. My mom was always playing with her little sister, helping her out. They always looked to be having fun.
I put down the album and reached for the next one, opened it up, and was immediately greeted by my grandparents wedding photo from the 50's. I kid you not, it was the first time I had ever seen my grandpa with a full head of hair. My grandparents looked so young, it was startling. The entire photo album was my grandparents' lives leading up to their marriage. Old, fading pictures of them as kids, back when they had no idea they would one day meet, war-time in Russia and yet they looked happy. I have never in my life seen pictures of my grandparents so young. I saw a picture of my grandpa when he was 19 and it excited me and freaked me out. True, my grandpa is still fit, still does 30 push-ups every morning, can still run and wake up early and everything. But he's a grandpa. I hate to think of myself in the future. As a grandpa. It's scary. But yeah, the rest of the photo albums were more of the same, ridiculously amazing pictures from the 30's to the 80's, of my grandparents and great-grandparents, and of my beautiful mom and her awesome sister, who now has a beautiful little girl named Naomi who I grew a lot closer with yesterday. I should take up photography so I can continue the tradition and document my kids' childhood, so that one day their kids stumble upon old fading pictures. That will be... what, 2030? A century after the first pictures in these photo albums? Awesome.
The moral of the story is that Israel is fucking HOT right now and I should start coming here in the Winter when I'm not sweating just from sitting on the computer.
Anyways.
Yesterday I saw my baby cousin Naomi for the first time in three years. Actually, "baby cousin" isn't very accurate at all; it's common knowledge that a girl of five years is no longer a "baby", but a big grown up person. I was amazed. I hadn't seen the kid since she was a mere two, when she knew a few phrases and was shy as a button. Now... she's a chatterbox. (Still incredibly shy, but she warms up to you over time.) She is beautiful and polite in the way five year olds are, and she can draw better than me too.
Well, it sort of hit me that she, after my brother, is my closest sibling. She is actually a... person. A talking, walking, dancing person. She danced to instrumental Beatles music for a half hour straight, and it was the most adorable and amazing and hilarious and perfect thing I have ever seen. My whole entire life I wanted a little sister. Yesterday I realized I actually have one. I love her to death.
Today.
Today I was sitting at the computer, much like I am now, and I glanced to the bookshelf cabinet on my left. There are many books in it, old and new, mostly in Russian, kid books and dictionaries and spy novels. I have glanced at this bookshelf cabinet many times in my life, and have sort of taken it in as a whole without really paying much attention. Today, though, I saw a photo sticking out on the bottom, and realized the bottom shelf, the shelf that I usually scan over in my act of taking in the whole bookshelf cabinet as a whole, was filled with many photo albums.
Now, it is also common knowledge that the Nathanson parents are avid photographers. The Nathanson boys' entire childhood has been documented from the moment I was born to the moment my parents split up. I own and have looked through close to 50 albums (I wish I was kidding) of pictures of me at every stage and age of my life up to this point. What I didn't know, however, is this photography bug extends far beyond my dear old mum and dad.
There were five photo albums on the bottom shelf. I looked through the first big one, the one with the photo sticking out, and was not surprised to see me as a nine year old playing soccer in Miami, my grandparents seeing my family off to America in '97, or my brother and I as five year olds at the Ramat-Gan Zoo. I had seen all those pictures before. I put back the photo album and decided to just glance at the next one, expecting to see more of the millions of pictures of my brother and I on the various shenanigan adventures of my childhood.
Except, when I opened the second album, the first picture was of my mom as a five year old. Now, in my entire 19 years of living, I had seen some pictures of my mom as a University student, or pregnant with me, and I think I may have, once or twice, seen my mom as a teenager, though I don't remember it. But as I flipped through the album, I saw my mom as a baby, my mom as a three year old, my aunt as a baby, the two sisters playing, my aunt dancing as a five year old to a row of dolls, my mom entering first grade. And every picture was perfectly labeled, and dated, and in pristine condition.
Two things struck me as I looked through the album. The first was the somewhat creepy realization that my mom, as a teenager, looked a lot like Anne Frank, only a little more beautiful. I always thought that Anne Frank was a very pretty girl, but my mom was even prettier. And the resemblance was uncanny, at least in my mind. The second realization I had was that I understood I hadn't an inkling of an idea what my mom, my aunt, and my grandparents were like, both in looks and personality, pre-1990. And it turns out they were a smiling, happy group. Back then, cameras were expensive (60's Soviet Russia), and most picture were candid, without poses, on the spot. The happy family was always together. My mom was always playing with her little sister, helping her out. They always looked to be having fun.
I put down the album and reached for the next one, opened it up, and was immediately greeted by my grandparents wedding photo from the 50's. I kid you not, it was the first time I had ever seen my grandpa with a full head of hair. My grandparents looked so young, it was startling. The entire photo album was my grandparents' lives leading up to their marriage. Old, fading pictures of them as kids, back when they had no idea they would one day meet, war-time in Russia and yet they looked happy. I have never in my life seen pictures of my grandparents so young. I saw a picture of my grandpa when he was 19 and it excited me and freaked me out. True, my grandpa is still fit, still does 30 push-ups every morning, can still run and wake up early and everything. But he's a grandpa. I hate to think of myself in the future. As a grandpa. It's scary. But yeah, the rest of the photo albums were more of the same, ridiculously amazing pictures from the 30's to the 80's, of my grandparents and great-grandparents, and of my beautiful mom and her awesome sister, who now has a beautiful little girl named Naomi who I grew a lot closer with yesterday. I should take up photography so I can continue the tradition and document my kids' childhood, so that one day their kids stumble upon old fading pictures. That will be... what, 2030? A century after the first pictures in these photo albums? Awesome.
The moral of the story is that Israel is fucking HOT right now and I should start coming here in the Winter when I'm not sweating just from sitting on the computer.