Happy Mother’s Day: mothers and babies
[NOTE: This is a repeat of a previous post.]
Okay, who are these three dark beauties?
A hint: one of them is the very first picture you’ve ever seen on this blog of neo-neocon, sans apple. Not that you’d recognize me, of course. Even my own mother might not recognize me from this photo.
My own mother, you say? Of course she would. Ah, but she’s here too, looking a bit different than she does today—Mother’s Day—at ninety-eight years of age. Just a bit; maybe her own mother wouldn’t recognize her, either.
Her own mother? She’s the one who’s all dressed up, with longer hair than the rest of us.
The photo of my grandmother was taken in the 1880’s; the one of my mother in the teens of the twentieth century; and the one of me, of course, in the 1950s.
Heredity, ain’t it great? My mother and grandmother are both sitting for formal portraits at a professional photographer’s studio, but by the time I came around amateur snapshots were easy to take with a smallish Brownie camera. My mother is sitting on the knee of her own grandfather, my grandmother’s father, a dapper gentleman who was always very well-turned out. I’m next to my older brother, who’s reading a book to me but is cropped out of this photo. My grandmother sits alone in all her finery.
We all not only resemble each other greatly in our features and coloring, but in our solemnity. My mother’s and grandmother’s seriousness is probably explained by the strange and formal setting; mine is due to my concentration on the book, which was Peter Pan (my brother was only pretending to read it, since he couldn’t read yet, but I didn’t know that at the time). My mother’s resemblance to me is enhanced by our similar hairdos (or lack thereof), although hers was short because it hadn’t really grown in yet, and mine was short because she purposely kept it that way (easier to deal with).
My grandmother not only has the pretty ruffled dress and the long flowing locks, but if you look really closely you can see a tiny earring dangling from her earlobe. When I was young, she showed me her baby earrings; several miniature, delicate pairs. It astounded me that they’d actually pierced a baby’s ears (and that my grandmother had let the holes close up later on, and couldn’t wear pierced earrings any more), whereas I had to fight for the right to have mine done in my early teens.
I’m not sure what my mother’s wearing; some sort of baby smock. But I know what I have on: my brother’s hand-me-down pajamas, and I was none too happy about it, of that you can be sure.
So, a very happy Mother’s Day to you all! What would mothers be without babies…and mothers…and babies….and mothers….?
Beauties ALL, Neocon!!
Happy Mother’s Day, Neo. As for the repeating cycle of mothers and babies and mothers and babies, this is my very first Grandmother’s Day. That may not be the day’s official name, but nonetheless, I’m enjoying it very much indeed.
Mrs Whatsit: congratulations!
I’m a new great-aunt, which isn’t quite like being a grandparent but it’s pretty exciting anyway.
I love these kind of family histories and peeks at life in the past. I wonder what will my grandchildren and great-grandchildren think as they view photos of me and my wife.
I dug through my photo albums last week in order to have copies made of some classics for relatives. It is wonderful to go back in time this way, and I love the late 1800s pix especially although i do have a great one of my dad sitting on a photgrapher’s pony with his oldest sister standing next to him (circa 1925). It’s interesting that even poor families managed to get their kids dressed up for the formal pictures.
Happy mother’s day and grandmother’s day to all.
I’m a new grandma, myself, but once, I found a picture of my very Nordic-looking Scots-Irish grandfather, and my irksome middle child was his spitting image!
In your case, Neo, I’d say that the apple didn’t fall far from the lovely faces. You all look so much alike. Maybe it’s cliched to say it, but beautiful people all look the same to me. Beautiful.
Thanks, Jewel [blushes]!
Did you ever see this post featuring a photo of my grandmother, grown up? It’s taken on the occasion of her graduation from normal school (otherwise known as teacher training school).
She was a fine example of elegance. She reminds me of my great-grandmother, who was about the same age as your grandmother. She was the MATRON of the house, and her husband had married into her money.
She was responsible for putting books and musical instruments into the hands of children in the Shawnee-Mission schools (Merriam, a suburb of Kansas City, Johnson County KS aka Swanksville) So she was a woman of small fame in her community.
One day, husband George decided to put his woman in her place and he built a cottage behind the house for his secretary, who was also his mistress. The town started gossiping about his audacity and his mistress’ house was called “The chicken coop”. My great-grandmother put herself into a sanatorium and wouldn’t leave until he fired the secretary and tore down the chicken coop. And she cut him off financially.
Of course, he saw the light. My brothers and sisters and I used to play on the foundation of the chicken coop. I only learned what was really there after my grandfather had died.
I also learned from Grandma’s family Bible that she and Grandpa eloped because she was pregnant.
The things you find out about your family late in life!