Skip to main content

From a recently unearthed box of photos


This photo was taken in December of 1991. It's of my older son. I suppose that if you aren't me and look at this picture you see a sweet faced baby boy with a giant smile on his face.


Of course I see the sweet face, and that killer smile ( and of course my son's beloved Blue Blanket just behind him). I also remember that day. It had come after months of  of one childhood sickness after another. On the day this photo was taken my son was really sick with the flu. He had at this point lost quite a bit of weight. He would have an occasional well day, but most of his days he had a bad ear infection or was struggling with his breathing.

And still there he was completely sweet tempered with that delicious smile. (This is a photograph so you can't hear his laugh though I can't help but hear that laugh when I look at this picture) 

Is it any wonder that I tell my son that I wish that he has kids who are like him, so he could experience just what a sweet kid he was.


Comments

  1. We had that bus! Ours was a hand me down from the Cirlins, I believe. Nostalgia. He does have an especially sweet smile in this picture.

    ReplyDelete
  2. It makes sense that you had that excellent bus. Their boys are about the same age as my big one and the hand me down makes perfect sense. One had to apply the stickers so it became a sesame Street us...I no longer remember if it was a gift or something I purchased but I do remember applying those stickers. Looking closely at the second photo I see that Blue Blanket was handed down from my nephew. the fact that it was labeled with his name leads me to believe that it was my nephew's day-care nap blanket. Blue Blanket was elevated by my son to a status of holiness along with it's cousin Yellow Blanket.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

I love hearing from my readers. I moderate comments to weed out bots.It may take a little while for your comment to appear.

Popular posts from this blog

מְחַיֵּה הַמֵּתִים

  וְנֶאֱמָן אַתָּה לְהַחֲיוֹת מֵתִים: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה מְחַיֵּה הַמֵּתִים   You are faithful to restore the dead to life. Blessed are You, Adonoy, Resurrector of the dead. That particular line is recited at every single prayer service every day three times a day, unless you use a Reform or Reconstructionist prayer book . In those liturgies instead of praising God for resurrecting the dead God is praised for  giving life to all.  I am enough of a modern woman, a modern thinker, to not actually believe in the actual resurrection of the dead. I don't actually expect all of the residents of the Workmen's Circle section of  Mount Hebron cemetery in Queens to get up and get back to work at their sewing machines. I don't expect the young children buried here or  the babies buried here to one day get up and frolic. Yet, every single time I get up to lead services I say those words about the reanimating of the dead with every fiber of my being. Yesterday, I e...

Connecting with the past

A few months ago I had a craving for my father’s chicken fricassee.  If my father were still alive I would have called him up and he would have talked me through the process of making it.    My father is no longer alive so I turned to my cookbooks and the recipes I found for chicken fricassee were nothing at all like the stew of chicken necks, gizzards and wings in a watery sweet and sour tomato sauce that I enjoyed as a kid.  I assumed that the dish was an invention of my father’s. I then attempted to replicate the dish from my memory of it and failed.   A couple of weeks ago I saw an article on the internet, and I can’t remember where, that talked about Jewish fricassee  and it sounded an awful lot like the dish I was hankering after. This afternoon I went to the butcher and picked up all of the chicken elements of the dish, a couple of packages each of wings, necks and gizzards. My father never cooked directly from a cook book. He used to re...

Food friday - your grandmother's food processor

My grandmother bought my mother this wooden bowl and a chopping knife, known in Yiddish as a hock-messer, soon after my parents got married. Yes, she also got them a dairy set as well. these wooden bowls and chopping knives were a big part of food prep when I was growing up. meatloaf and meat balls were mixed in this bowl. Chopped liver was made in this bowl as well. Sundays we often made chicken salad for lunch made out of chicken left over from Shabbat chopped with vegetables and mayo. That too, was made in this bowl. When I was in college my parents got their first food processor and the chopping bowls were not used as much. Several years ago, my father asked if i would like the bowls and the hock-messers. I was happy to have them. I like the sheer physicality of chopping up a big bowl of stuff into teeny pieces. While the wooden bowls have stood up well to the years of use, the hock-messers had not. The bladed which were bolted into their handles, wobbled. The blades wouldn't ...