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I. Los Gérmenes Primordiales |
My father's mother was born somewhere in Silicia/Poland in 1881, arriving in the U.S. in 1903. His father was also born somewhere in Silicia/Poland in 1874, coming to the U.S. in 1899. They were married in Poland in 1902, and became naturalized U.S. citizens in 1907. My grandfather worked in a leather mill in Philadelphia, somewhere along the Delaware River. I do not know how they accomplished it, but they eventually owned several row-homes in the Port Richmond section of the City, an area largely populated by Polish immigrants. They had 10 children, my father being the sixth. Only 1 yet survives.
Their house always smelled differently than ours, a strange "oldish", "foreign" scent. I remember the player piano that I liked to play, even though some of the tiny air tubes leading to the mechanism were hard and brittle and broken, and all of the notes did not play. Then there was the radio/record player--like the ones you see in "period" movies: radio with a very large round, lighted dial having too many numbers on it, and too many buttons to push to listen to different shortwave broadcasts. The record player (78 RPM of course) appeared when you pulled-open a drawer-like thing. Then there was the record needle compartment, a small round box like receptacle near the front of the player containing the smallish metal needles that I often stuck my finger with!
They also owned an apartment house in Wildwood, New Jersey where we often visited after the summer. The huge feather comforters on the beds were unusual to me--I remember that there were always feathers coming out in places.
Visiting them was a sort of subdued, dullish experience-- they spoke no English, and everything was much too quiet for us kids.
My mother's father came to the US also in the early 1900s from the eastern part of Austria/Ukraine-- the good old Austro-Hungarian Empire that I recall from history classes. He also lived in Philadelphia and had a shipping company/travel agency/real estate business.
My mother's mother was of Russian descent, was raised in some orphanage in western Pennsylvania, and was married at the age of 14! She had three children, my mother being the first. My grandfather died shortly after the Great Stock Market Crash, prior to 1938 I think-- he lost whatever money he had in the Crash while enjoying his 2nd trip around the world! An uncle allegedly rushed over to their house after my grandfather died and took a promissory note for some $30,000 from a safe-box! I never heard from this uncle, nor even knew who he was until I graduated from Villanova University--when he sent me a check for $100 for being the first one of that part of the family to graduate college! My grandmother remarried and lived in the Rising Sun area of Philadelphia.
When we visited these grandparents' house the smells were entirely different and the tone was more alive and fun. My grandfather smoked these huge cigars and drank lots of beer, and my grandmother always gave us a laugh by doing a veil dance! She said that she was good at fortune telling, but would not exhibit her skills because she said she stopped doing it after she foretold a disaster for a friend--and the friend later died in an accident.
Her potato salad, cole slaw and baking were out of this world--even my mother never quite caught-on how to do a good cole slaw!
My grandmother was the ONLY person in my entire family who would ask me about the science things that interested me. What fossils did you find? What is cave exploring like? Did you collect any interesting shells lately? To everyone else it was just a hobby.
She worked at SKF in Philadelphia, and died telling an obscene joke to her coworkers during a lunch break--at the age of 49.
That is the "Pre-Me" part. The exact dates were obtained by researching the files at the National Archive office in Philadelphia. I even got copies of the original marriage certificates, naturalization papers, etc. It's lots of work searching through old census records and other files, but the results are interesting.
These days, one may even obtain U.S. and foreign records via the INTERNET. This phase of the research is yet to come, when ever I "have the time".
My father and mother married in 1939.
My father was born in Philadelphia in 1915 and went to a Polish school in the neighborhood. All of his classes were in Polish, and he ONLY knew his prayers (Catholic, of course) in Polish. I hated it when we went to visit his parents because they always spoke Polish, and never wanted us (my brother, sister and I) to learn it. I did manage to learn a couple of curse words, though!
He only had a high school education, but he always wanted to be an engineer. His parents would have none of this new fangled stuff, BUT they did allow him to attend a Seminary on the Great Lakes to study to be a priest. He lasted a year there, then returning home to begin working for the rest of his life as a sheet metal press operator at the General Electric Switchgear Plant in Philadelphia. They even gave him a pin for 25 years of service. When they had open house at the Plant one year I remember seeing the enormous machine he worked at.
He came home from work every day, we had dinner as a family, then a short time talking or watching TV. He always said that TV was "the damnation of the World"--but we always had at least 2 TVs around the house! Then he would go to bed. On weekends is when he was with us more, sharing what he could do with us. He always said he wished he would have time to take us to concerts, the theatre, and such, but he never did.
He played the violin, and was good at it. If you hummed a song, he could pick it up and continue it. He wanted me to learn to play it also, and started to give me lessons. I was so awful he once broke a violin over my head! At this point he decided it would be better if I got the lessons from someone else, so I was sent to a Polish friend of his for lessons. These continued for several years. I really liked playing,but have not continued FOR LACK OF TIME--or so I say. I remember playing at a school recital, some classical piece. He even signed us up to practice/play with one of the local Philadelphia orchestras. We did things like the Firebird Suite and other classical stuff. We were the 3rd father/son violin duo playing with the group. It all ended, alas, just before a Christmas concert when we were supposed to play at some Protestant church--my father, being such a devout Catholic said NO WAY!
He was an excellent mechanic, always working on the car, or on some home improvement--tiling, painting, creating new rooms, additions, installingsecond bathrooms, wall papering, painting, a home darkroom, making shelves or places for me to keep my books and shell and fossil collections. BUT he never understood my interest in science. He kept saying that the fossils had been there for millions of years so why bother! I should study geology to work forsome oil company and make lots of money!
Another of his loves : photography. We actually did all of our photo work ourselves--just normal, family stuff, nothing "artsy".
He was a mechanically minded genius and could repair almost anything. He often took the car apart and somehow got it all back together again. This is one aspect of my upbringing that I never got into, and am sorry for it! The home repair part is familiar and easy for me because I helped him so often.
He died of cancer at home, while I was in Las Palmas in the Canary Islands (Spain), in 1970 at age 54.
My mother was born in Philadelphia in 1919 and had a "gilded" childhood, with servants, a nanny and all the trimmings-- until her father lost ALL of their money during the Bank Crash. He died before I was born.
She worked at the Whitman Chocolate Company in Philadelphia when she was married. She only had a high school education. Her parents had warned her not to marry my father because she could only look forward to a life of hard work-- which came to be true!
When my brother and sister and I were out of high school and into college--I still do not know how they put us all through college!--she had various jobs as election helper at the polls, cashier at the local ACME Market, and lastly as a cleaning woman at Byberry State Hospital-- the big insane asylum in Northeast Philadelphia which has since closed.
She was very caring, loving and warm. Always asked how school was, put up with and looked after my animals, showed "some" interest in my hobbies, and generally "put up with" my father, who was not the easiest person to be married to-- probably because he was somewhat frustrated with his job because it was so physically demanding .
She always made different cakes and pastries, prepared enormous holiday feasts with several relatives munching along, had the house spotless, was devoted to the family dog (a Boston Bull Terrier named Buster, who was thoroughly devoted to her also), paid all the bills, read to us daily when we were young, and encouraged us to study to be whatever would make us happiest in life.
She died following a heart attack and a week in the hospital in 1981 at age 61, shortly after retiring from Byberry. I had returned about 16 months earlier from Spain in order to be with her. My brother and sister had already married and lived with their growing and multiplying families outside of Philadelphia.
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To be continued.......some day, when I have the time Thursday, 11 January 1996 |
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