I’ve been scanning old photos today, not for any particular reason, but I thought it might be fun to share them for anyone who might be interested in that sort of thing.

I’m in love with this picture. I can explain who and what these people mean to me/who they are after I tell you their names first.

From left to right it goes: Lloyd, Grandma, Uncle Lenny, Nana, Jack, Feezie, Mike.

Lloyd was not my real Great grandfather, but my Great grandma’s third husband and the only one I ever knew and so I usually called him Grandpa. Rose, my Great grandma was widowed three times. Lloyd would pass away just about a month or two before her.  Sol, my true Great grandfather, I never met, but he was a gifted jeweler. He died young because of a bad heart.  Rose was pretty devastated over that because she loved Sol very much, but after many, many years, she married some guy whose name I forget, but his last name began with a Z.  I don’t think they were together too long before he had a heart attack and died!

So Rose called it quits on men, but years later, when she was already very elderly, she belonged to a senior citizens club where she played cards and Mahjong, Bingo, etc., and Llyod followed her around and did not give up, and she fell in love with him and they made the cutest couple you have ever seen in your life.

Uncle Lenny: he was a funny, funny fucker. But he drank like a fish and we all thought he was going to die of liver failure. As a kid, I would sit on his lap and he would make me laugh until I’d cry. He stank of Bourbon every time I went near him. He was the life of the party and my mother loved him like he was her knight. He was her favorite family member, and they were very, very close. Maybe too close.

Lenny died while getting an MRI. He was allergic to the contrast dye. He was in his 50s. My mom took it so hard, she tried to kill herself, but she tried to do that pretty often.

Nana and Jack: a very cute couple (even though Nana was pretty much a bitch). Jack would call my Nana his “little chicken.” I thought that was so sweet and funny as shit. They worked so well together. Jack was Nana’s 107th husband! Not really. I don’t know how many husbands she had but it was a lot. She wasn’t widowed ever. She just had bad luck. And for the record, she was not easy to get along with.

But the best best best thing about Nana was… she always had bananas at her house, and Mallomars! Who remembers Mallomars? Let me know if you need reminding.

Then, holding my brother in place so he doesn’t run away and create havoc, is my Aunt Feezie. That was her nickname. Silvia is/was he real name.  She was Lenny’s Wife. I lost contact with her. I don’t know if she is still alive, but I highly doubt she is alive in her 90s.

Feezie had a sister that lived across the way from she and Lenny. Edie. Edie was an artist. Edie also helped take care of me. I had a LOT of wonderful women around me when I was very young that took very good care of me, and this went on maybe half the time until I was about six. And then it all stopped.

Oh, so much juice I could tell, but I just can’t. (I say while wringing my hands! – Well not exactly because I’m actually typing so I can’t really wring my hands now, can I? Let’s get real here people.)

Anyway, lastly is Mike, my older brother. Older by three years. He is my only brother and my only sibling…wait, no, that’s not true.

I also have three sisters! That story is for another blog. I just want to show more photos.

Here is Susie, Nana, and Mom. Susie is my mom’s younger sister. Younger by 13 years. Or was it eight? No, I’m pretty sure it’s 13. But never mind that, Look at how much I resemble my mom in this photo! It’s just plain eerie! I mean, especially when I was really skinny. Those of you that knew me when I was skinny like this can look at this picture and think this is for sure a picture of me, but I swear to you it is NOT.

So far all the people in the photos are dead except for Mike and Susie. Wow.

This is my dad, Cal. I guess he always has that sevenhead. It’s not a forehead, a fivehead, or even a sixhead. How he got my fashion-plate, model mother to even go on a date with him, I will never know. Why did women marry him? Look at him. He looks like a doofus. I mean, he’s my dad and I think he looks so cute and sweet and innocent. Well, maybe not innocent, but he looks like who he was. You would get out of him exactly what he looks like here. A good person who is not too bright, but he’s going to be there and show up for you. That was my dad.

And here he is before the women, the complications of marriages and children. Here he is at 18 trying to face the reality of World War II. He is really not yet a man, but he can not be a child anymore. Not here. But this was what it was like for all the kids at this time. It’s not that my dad was such a dum dum. He just saw too many dumb and senseless acts.

Talk about dumb and senseless acts…

Please don’t ask me about how my dress is matching his pants.

Here my mother was in Miami dancing in the clubs for money. She had not yet met my dad, who of course stopped her from this nonsense. Look at her! Her bangs are too short. She looks like she’s 15. (She’s not. She’s about 19 here.) But she certainly doesn’t belong in a night club shaking her hips to wins trips and prizes, money or dollar bills. Like, what-ever Mom!