1953

My mother was 29 in this picture.  I was born the following September.
And boy, do I remember that lambs wool coat.  It served her many cold
NY winters to come.

My Aunt Ann and I spent some time together yesterday, a gift, really – because I cherish that she is the one person on this earth who knows me longer than anyone else does.  (Except for my Aunt M. on my mother’s side, but sadly, it is not apparent exactly what she remembers at age 93.  Aunt M.  has been affected by dementia for quite some time, and I haven't seen her for many years.)

Aunt Ann gave me some photos that she came across recently.  One photo could not help but convey a special poignancy to the both of us.  It is a photo of my mother, dated January 1st, 1953.  My parents spent the previous evening, New Year’s Eve, with Uncle Harry and Aunt Ann and another couple.  

Engaging in some simple mathematics, we decided that the radiance and glow emanating from my mother in the picture was because she was pregnant with me at the time but did not yet know it.  This picture signifies a beginning of not only a new year, but of families yet to be, of lives unlived, of hopes and dreams of young people, eager to build a world.

And build a world they did.  Thank you, future parents of 1953.