Happy Mother’s Day!
[NOTE: This is a repeat of what has become my annual Mother’s Day post. It was written while my mother was still alive.]
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….?
You are an angel, Neo.
I don’t need to, because I can find my way back. But I have it saved.
Georgian ballet.
And, speaking of ballet.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9qndT3j6ttQ
H-46 aerial ballet Hauling bombs for USS Midway 1991 (HC-11 DET-4)
It’s somehow important for me to let you know. It’s not like I don’t have music in my soul.
My mother lived in three centuries. Born in 1898 and died in 2001. She had great stories. My kids used to travel to Chicago and spend a week with her. I took her to see “Titanic” when it came out. She was 14 when it sank and remembered it well. She laughed at the sex scene in the car.
According to the apple pictures, Neo, you inherited that lovely curly dark hair. Nice pictures.
My Anglo-American mother didn’t have pierced ears and wouldn’t permit ours to be pierced. I had it done in college. Mom passed away thirty-seven years ago this week. I still miss her.
Kate:
Thanks!
Neo, it’s good to see your Mother’s Day traditional pictures again. Thank you.
Happy Mother’s Day to you too!
I was wondering if you’d show these great fotos again – thanks again!
What would your mother and grandmother think about Trump — did your mother ever talk about him when he was younger? When he went broke – then came back?
Maybe she had some other unusual memories of usual or unusual folk in some unusual situation?
I’m pretty sure at your age in the foto, you were hardly aware that your brother’s hand-me-downs were from him. You might even have preferred the washed softness of the 1 year used pjs over brand new ones.
Yes, heredity is great, but such similarity in 3 generation is quite rare and is a proof positive of a very balanced and robust genetic make up. It explains your mother’s longevity and is a good indication that you inherited it too.
Beauties All..!!!
Tom Grey:
I can’t recall my mother saying a single word about Trump during all the years he was famous while she was alive, and that was a lot of years. Once, when one of his early buildings was built (one with a lot of marble and a waterfall, if I recall correctly) we went into the lobby to see the marble and the waterfall.
My grandmother was very dignified, and my guess is that she would have thought him vulgar. But she was a great patriot, and I think she would have liked that aspect.
My mother did have quite a few stories about famous people she had encountered.
But let me assure you that in that photo I knew they were my brother’s hand-me-downs. I was well aware of the clothes I wore. I remember that photo being taken, as well. See this. In fact, I think I may re-post that one.