Victorian Autograph Album

One of my cousins is the custodian of this family heirloom, a late-Victorian autograph album that belonged to a great-great-aunt of ours. Many of her friends and relatives signed the book and entered little poems typical of the day. I believe that my paternal grandmother is one of the contributors.

When I was in grade school, I had a much smaller autograph book and my grandmother and grandfather both signed it. I hope it will resurface during spring cleaning.

(Photos copyright and courtesy of my cousin, dsg.)

My Grandfather & My Brother, 1956

My Grandfather & My Brother, 1956, originally uploaded by confections.

My paternal grandfather, age 71, and my little brother, about 8 months old, circa April 1956.

I love this tender study of my grandfather holding my baby brother. I remember this corner of the dining room very well. Usually there was a rocking chair at this spot, where both grandparents would rock the babies of the family.

My grandmother would sing "Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean" or "We are Marching to Pretoria" or "Are you an angel, my glad heart sings, are you an angel, where are your wings? Are you an angel, are you an angel? Tell me, dear."

My grandmother's indoor plants are visible on the little side table. Her glass-front china cabinet was in the opposite corner, and the sideboard that held the cookie jar was just to my grandfather's right.

I loved exploring the contents of that sideboard reverentially. In addition to the cookie jar and lovely embroidered linen scarf beneath it, the drawers and cubbies of the sideboard held many treasures. I recall thumbing through my grandmother's yellowed copy of The White House Cook Book which she kept on an inside shelf.

Above and behind my grandfather was a photographic portrait in an oval frame of my grandmother in high-button shoes at about age six--lost to posterity as far as I know.

My grandfather's preeminent realm, however, was the basement (in my child's mind, at least). He had an old-time crank Victrola and an extensive collection of 78 rpm records. We played a lot of foxtrots, as I recall, and danced around.

Every year he made sauerkraut in huge crocks, following a tradition that I'm sure he learned from his grandfather. I have a vivid memory of going with him and my parents to Trax farmstand in Allegheny County, Pennsylvania, to buy bushels full of cabbage in preparation for this ritual.

He made potent red wine that aged in the cellar where my grandmother kept her canned tomatoes and piccalilli and homemade ketchup. He, alongside my father, built a cabin in the Pennsylvania woods that served as a hunting and fishing camp and family gathering place.

He and my grandmother cultivated flower and vegetable gardens and five strapping boys and lived to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary, a grand fest which was documented on 8mm film by my uncle.

I'm still trying to solve a family mystery about the identity of my grandfather's father. I have a few clues, but no hard primary data. The genealogical research continues.

I know I have mentioned this just recently, but I reiterate: please conduct oral history interviews with significant people in your life. Future generations will thank you.

My Grandmother with Her Hand-Braided Rugs

My Grandmother with Her Hand-Braided Rugs, originally uploaded by confections.

I just scanned some 1940's vintage photos of my paternal grandparents and their home. This photo shows my grandmother with some freshly laundered braided rag rugs hanging on her clothesline.

This was probably taken during World War II; my grandparents had five children--five sons--and four of them served in and survived that war (my fourth uncle, too young for service World War II, served in the Korean War). I cannot even begin to imagine the fortitude they drew upon to endure that time in their lives. Both of my paternal grandparents lived into their eighties and were active and creative until the very end.

I remember my grandmother (Mollie) teaching me how to embroider on her front porch on lazy summer afternoons like we are having now. She was a quilter and a rag rug maker and baked a mean loaf of bread. I think she would enjoy knowing that I spin quilting fabrics into rag yarn (Ragamuffin) as part of my continuing fascination with the fiber arts.