Family tree
After the dinner dishes were cleared away (by my brother, no doubt... will wonders never cease?), I rested my hand on my cheek and grinned at my mother from across the table. "Did you know your grandmother's maiden name was Deutsch and that she was Hungarian?" No, in fact, she didn't. And suddenly she was interested. We went through the notes I took during my talk the other day with Grandma and tried to connect more of the dots.
And then I looked at my grandfather and asked him, "so how did you guys meet?"
Now... I must say, I don't give my grandfather enough credit. Most of the time I've known him he's been ridiculously opinionated, racist, stubborn, and childish, and I've pretty much blown him off. But there's more in there than I once cared to acknowledge. In fact, he was once a physicist and a decorated war hero. He's been to more places than I've ever dreamt about.
So upon my question, his face, drooping with age, suddenly came to life. He recalled details he hadn't remembered in 60 years. He talked about a New Year's Eve party held in St. Austell, England, outside the town he was stationed. There he sat, a U.S. Army staff sergeant, playing the piano (by ear, naturally, he never learned to read music), and it was there he met my grandmother. "The Americans had chocolate, and that was a good thing, so the girls wanted to go," Grandma shrugged.
She sat next to me, grinning at him from across the table. She told us that she was attracted to this musician. Neither of them could remember who went up to the other, though.
So they got to talking. He offered her a cigarette, but she didn't smoke. She said she tried two for him, but couldn't get the hang of it (another family trait... I never could either. Indeed for the best, I think). They saw each other for about three weeks or so before he proposed. She was about 19, he was 24 or 25. Being a smart girl, she gave the ring back.
And then he managed to lose that ring in a foxhole on the beach of Normandy. Fortunately for the rest of us at the table, she agreed to marry him when she saw him again after D-Day.
And then I looked at my grandfather and asked him, "so how did you guys meet?"
Now... I must say, I don't give my grandfather enough credit. Most of the time I've known him he's been ridiculously opinionated, racist, stubborn, and childish, and I've pretty much blown him off. But there's more in there than I once cared to acknowledge. In fact, he was once a physicist and a decorated war hero. He's been to more places than I've ever dreamt about.
So upon my question, his face, drooping with age, suddenly came to life. He recalled details he hadn't remembered in 60 years. He talked about a New Year's Eve party held in St. Austell, England, outside the town he was stationed. There he sat, a U.S. Army staff sergeant, playing the piano (by ear, naturally, he never learned to read music), and it was there he met my grandmother. "The Americans had chocolate, and that was a good thing, so the girls wanted to go," Grandma shrugged.
She sat next to me, grinning at him from across the table. She told us that she was attracted to this musician. Neither of them could remember who went up to the other, though.
So they got to talking. He offered her a cigarette, but she didn't smoke. She said she tried two for him, but couldn't get the hang of it (another family trait... I never could either. Indeed for the best, I think). They saw each other for about three weeks or so before he proposed. She was about 19, he was 24 or 25. Being a smart girl, she gave the ring back.
And then he managed to lose that ring in a foxhole on the beach of Normandy. Fortunately for the rest of us at the table, she agreed to marry him when she saw him again after D-Day.