October 13, 1958
Our family has few heirlooms, most of which no one else would consider of value. I have just packed away a photo of my father, standing in front of one of his paintings. I am sending it to Caroline, my younger sister. Her name is written on the back of it, in her childhood hand. Long ago, Caroline laid claim to this precious piece of family history.
I am not sure how the picture found its way into my home, though I imagine it must have been my Mother’s doing, as for quite some time, I think I have been the keeper of my family’s history.
Before mailing the picture to Caroline, I remove it from the frame, to scan the image.
I suppose I have known that for awhile that I was going to return the photo, but was unwilling to part with it before I copied it.
My Mother has only been able to tell me that the picture was taken in Chicago, and that the painting was given to a museum or library there, perhaps associated with a Bible College – her lack of interest in history, especially our history is maddening! Nevertheless, as I look at the picture, I notice the date October 12, 1958, stamped on the back. I write down the date as if it meant something, as if it were a clue! It is simply the date the photograph, printed on Kodak paper, was copied.
I go back to their lives in October of 1958; I do not think they are in Chicago. My Mother is pregnant with Joy, my older sister, by then, and the Cuban Revolution, (or plague) is months away from victory. Where are my parents in October of 1958? There is no way of knowing where they might haven been or what they would have been doing. But I take note of the date, write it down, and think of it as another piece in the timeline of my history, though I am yet to be born.
I call Kate, and tell her to look at the picture closer – the subject matter. I realize that Joy has a version of this painting. When my Father had the first of what would be four heart attacks, I remember sitting in his hospital room, in Los Angeles, where he in detail described a painting, he had just completed, of a forest and lake of greens, with leaves that danced upon the ground. It had been a long time since he had painted, and clearly he loved this painting. I wanted one of his paintings; he told me I could have his green forest, which now hangs in my dinning room, as it has for years. I also told him he would have to make a painting for Joy and Caroline, his face lit up. Did I truly think they would want his work, most assuredly. I knew they would want his art.
He had few years after that, but he painted; and Joy and Caroline both ended up with completed canvases and Joy with a few that were unfinished – more family heirlooms.
The last time I saw Joy, I took her another family heirloom, a doll which my Mother had brought her Mother, from Cuba, in the fifties. When my grandmother passed away, the doll was returned to my Mother, who eventually gave it to Joy – and then took it back.
I know that Joy felt slighted by this, but now it is back in her hands, and soon Caroline will have the photograph.
I miss the doll and the picture, but history must be shared. I scan more old family photographs as it seems that they are all in my possession. For all of my Father’s weaknesses, he did have an understanding of history, and insisted on family photographs. I will share them, though perhaps there are only a handful of people who care to see them – I will do my part to record our history and to share our history, because it matters.
Knowing who we are and where we have come from matters. Our past shapes us and our future; it is important for current generation’s record and cherish the stories which future generations will look upon to understand why they love art or dolls.
Caroline has received her box. Good. I did hate putting one of the few family heirlooms into the mail, but mostly the United States Post Office has been good to me, I am glad it has arrived safely. She is happy, I am pleased. The picture has landed where it belonged. I know that Caroline will guard this family history as I have. That is all for now.
