Waiting

Verona, Wisconsin, March 2015. Last year, the crane pair started nesting in our backyard on March 19. We're waiting to see if they return. I still wonder if something bad didn't happen to the family last year.

Expectations

Hyannis Port, Massachusetts, July 1963. When we visited the area near the Kennedy Compound, I assumed we would see some famous people. Mom consoled me.

A Theory

 
Verona, Wisconsin, May 10, 2015. Did the crane family decide to leave because the birds tired of the pesky red-winged blackbirds?

Here's a red-winged blackbird about to land on Mama Crane:

Here's one after it landed:

Related by Marriage: Passing

Near Panevėžys, Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic, July 27, 1951. Mr. Irene's paternal Grandmother, Veronica, and Veronica's youngest son Stacey mourn the loss of Mr. Irene's paternal Grandfather.

Read here for more about the tradition of photographing funerals.

Autumn-Grey Reunion

Sand Bay Town Park, Door County, Wisconsin, October 1980. It's dreary from every angle.

Autumn Rain

Door County, Wisconsin, October 1978. It doesn't take much to shake off the leaves.

Two Memories

Addison, Illinois, August 1963. (1) It made me sad to see a melancholy deer behind a fence at Adventureland. (2) I hated that outfit: I never liked "pedal pushers," and that embroidered bull on the top was ridiculous.

Sunday Paper: Saturated Edition

Suburban Chicago, Spring 1963. Mom wasn't giving up on the reading lessons.

"You ask: How do I live?"

After I posted this photo of my paternal Grandmother's sister, Elena (the actress), I found an envelope of letters and photos Elena had sent to Tatjana in the late 1950s and 1960s.

Earlier I had wondered whether Elena ever married or had a family. This photo—and what Elena wrote on the back of it—provides more information:

January 7, 1960

My own Tanjusha, I want to send you my own portrait as well, but I haven’t had my photo taken in a long time.

I am sending you a photo of me and my husband taken six months before his death. I was trying to restore his health—

*     *     *     *     *

I so wanted my beloved to live…
But death is implacable, he is in the grave
And for the widow there is inconsolable grief…

Why did this happen?  Why?

For I loved my husband very dearly.

I look at his portrait. It is deaf and dumb,

I am left alone—a broken-off branch.

(This is my own poem.)

*     *     *     *     *

You ask: How do I live? It is already the third year since I buried my husband, but I am still grieving and sad.

I am alone; my son is working in the north. This increases my melancholy and grief—I describe my feelings in poetry.

I spent the summer in a suburb of Leningrad at a dacha. My son was with me for a month and a half, and then I was living there alone. Now I am again living in the city apartment. In January my son will come to see me again. As for my health, I can’t complain. I sleep well and have a good appetite. I receive a good pension, and in addition my son helps me.

I kiss you warmly, my dear. I often remember you as you were when we were growing up. I remember. I love you. Deeply loving you. 

Ljalja

 

Thanks to my dear friend D for translating the text from Russian to English.

 

A Pensive Time

Kaunas, Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic, about 1972. This is Kaunas Nina—the daughter of my Dad's cousin, Henry, and mother of my Kaunas Cousin.

Kaunas Nina was an English-language teacher.

Years Later

Kaunas, Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic, about 1962. My Dad's cousin, Henry, sits with his wife, Suzanne, as they visit with their daughter, Kaunas Nina.

Sledding is not much fun when there are no hills nearby.

Suburban Chicago, December 1961. I am stuck on the flat driveway, wearing my Mickey-Mouse mittens.

Welcome, Winter

Verona, Wisconsin, December 22, 2012. A blue Christmas needn't be "blue."

Sunday Paper: Learn-to-Read Edition

Suburban Chicago, Spring 1963. Mom sets aside the newspaper for another reading lesson. I'm still having none of it.

Postwar

Schweinfurt, Germany, Summer 1945. I wrote earlier about how weary my paternal Grandmother, Tatjana, looked after the end of World War II. Here's my Dad at the conclusion of hostilities in Europe. His face, too, speaks to the hardships he endured in the last months of the war.

Radio Waves

Kaunas, Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic, about 1962. My Dad's cousin, Henry, and Henry's wife, Suzanne, tune the radio. This photo makes me melancholy. I wonder to what broadcast they had tuned.

A Different Era

Kaunas, Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic, about 1962. My Kaunas Cousin sits with her maternal Grandparents: my Dad's cousin, Henry, and his wife, Suzanne.

Related by Marriage: Another Wedding Portrait

Here is the wedding portrait of the marriage of Stacey, the younger brother of Mr. Irene's Dad. I earlier posted some photos of the country wedding here.

Near Panevėžys, Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic, July 1959. Stacey and his bride don't look right into the camera lens.

Related by Marriage: Country Wedding

Stacey, the youngest brother of Mr. Irene's Dad, stayed behind in Lithuania after the Soviet Union occupied the country. While Mr. Irene's Dad and his eldest brother, Ignas, adapted to life in the United States, Stacey remained in the countryside and managed the old farm.

Stacey married and raised a family in the same house in which Mr. Irene's Dad and Ignas had grown up.

Near Panevėžys, Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic, July 1959. Mr. Irene's paternal Grandmother, Veronica, sits with Stacey's bride, Stacey, and an aunt. The ceremony took place about six months after the wedding of Mr. Irene's Parents.

*    *     *     *     *

Near Panevėžys, Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic, July 1959. The wedding party surrounds the newlyweds. The women wear Lithuanian folkdresses.

*     *     *     *     *

Near Panevėžys, Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic, July 1959. Family members gather for a photo in front of the farmhouse.

*     *     *     *     *

Near Panevėžys, Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic, July 1959. Parents of the newlyweds greet the couple with wine, bread, and salt as the couple enters the reception. The three items symbolize joy, work, and tears. A similar custom arises in Polish weddings.

Russian Self-Reflection

Natasha, a younger sister of my paternal Grandmother, Tatjana, sent this photo to Tatjana in 1963:

"Penza, 1940. Take a look at your little sister as she was 23 years ago!"

Thanks again to my dear friend, D, for translating the texts from Russian to English.