I'm sad to report that last night Alastair's grandmother, the girls' great-grandmother, passed away. Bertha, or "Bert" as she was called, was nearly 97 years old, and was loving, gracious and whip-smart. Elsa and Clio won't remember meeting her, but they brought her a great deal of joy in her last months. And right now, they're providing a great deal of comfort to the whole family with their happy presence. They're (very cute) reminders that life goes on, new generations continue where the old left off, and that for as much sadness as there is in life, there's equal measure of joy.
Bert was wonderful with the babies the several times she visited with them. Though she couldn't always remember their names or who was who (then, plenty of people half her age can't either) she showered them with affection. "You're a shayneh kepelah!" she'd tell them. (Yiddish, meaning, literally, "pretty head.") And then she'd ask us, a twinkle in her eye, "You feeding them steak yet?"
Bert with Clio, 7 weeks old
I think it's so cool that someday Elsa and Clio be able to look at pictures like this and know that they were held in the arms of a woman who lived through two world wars and the Great Depression -- things that will no doubt seem like ancient history to them. Bert was the child of immigrants from Eastern Europe who came to Manhattan's lower east side at the end of the nineteenth century, looking for opportunity and religious freedom. They were garment workers, dressmakers. Bert was raised in Brooklyn, along with three sisters and a brother. When she married, she and her husband moved out to Long Island and up into the middle class. Bert's daughter (my mother in law) has a PhD from Columbia University and is highly respected in her field. Who knows what Elsa and Clio will do?
Bert and Elsa
Great Grandma, you will be missed.
