Laura on Life

Sometimes when I look into a mirror or into the face of one of my children, I might wonder where, or more specifically, who, I inherited those dirt-colored eyes from or who had the nerve to pass down that pug-nose to one of my children. Well, I recently came into the possession of a picture of my great-grandparents and their ten children! Count ‘em…ten children! One of which was my maternal grandmother. I knew her for many years before she died and amazingly, she seemed to be as dour-faced in her childhood as she was in her adult years. She was the only person in this fascinating picture that looked like she just wanted to beat someone up. In our family picture, taken a few years ago, my daughter, who is normally the sweetest person in the world, was pouting because she didn’t get to wear the necklace she had made especially for the picture. She’d made it with green and orange wooden beads and she was wearing a blue velvet formal dress. I didn’t even know she’d made it, but she forgot to bring it to the photographer’s studio. I wonder what my grandmother might have been pouting about in 1906. The oldest “child” in this picture looked to be in his early twenties. Dressed in a suit and tie, one could only describe him as “dapper” which I believe was a term widely used in those days. He was holding on his lap a little girl who I know as my mother’s godmother. But if I look a little closer I can see…yes, that’s the nose! Neither of my great-grandparents have that nose, however, so where did she get it? The two oldest girls look tired, as if they were the ones charged with all the work for this huge family. The oldest already looked the part of a matron, though she was not married at the time. The boys, however, except for the oldest looked to be a little rascally. Some things never change, I guess. One of them, who was apparently a twin of one of the older girls could be seen as even a little rebellious: He had a buzz-cut, which was not a conservative cut in those days and was definitely at odds with the rest of the people in this picture. He also wore a three-piece suit like the rest of his brothers but his collar was open with no tie. He must’ve been a real challenge for his parents. The little ones, a girl about two and a boy about three wore the same vacant expressions that are apparent in my own children’s pictures at that age. The boy is fidgeting with his hands as if there is something sticky on them and his mouth is wide open as if he doesn’t know when to stop talking. My youngest is also like that. The girl was obviously a much-loved child. She was the only one with blond hair in a family of brunettes. My sister and I both had blond hair when we were that young and it turned to brunette later. I wonder if hers did the same? She was sitting on her father’s lap and her mother was holding her hand as if to keep it from flying up when the flash went off. In our family picture, I had to do the same thing with my youngest. The oldest daughter looked exactly like a younger version of her mother, who was sitting serenely with a tolerant half-smile on her face. She looked very much like the loving force behind this humongous family. She was a fairly large woman with double chins and a tent for a dress, but giving birth to ten children would tend to ruin one’s figure, I guess. The father, one arm around the little girl and one firm hand holding down the youngest boy, looked like he just wanted to get it over with. My husband could probably relate to that! All in all, it looks as though not much has changed from 1906 to 2006. Except maybe the number of children people have nowadays. It is somewhat reassuring to know that I am strolling down the same path that my great-grandmother and probably dozens of other ancestors have strolled, although with about half as many children. As Bill Cosby once said, “The reason I have five children is because I didn’t want six!” I know how he feels. At least we had a choice.