Just thought I would post some favorite pics of the mothers in my family:
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This is me (on left) with my brother, Mike (center), and my cousin, Phil. (Don't ask me why he's holding a syrup bottle.) I was about two and a half years old in this picture. Here we are again, except now I am holding my baby cousin, Steve, and the other two have passed out.
![]() Casimir Pulaski Today is the official observance of Casimir Pulaski Day. Casimir Pulaski was a decorated Polish soldier who fought with the Americans during the Revolutionary War. Among his many accomplishments during the war, he played a pivotal role in the Battle of Brandywine in 1777, perhaps saving the life of George Washington in the process. He was an experienced war horseman and is credited with greatly improving American cavalry forces during the war. In October 1779, he was mortally injured during the Siege of Savannah. In 2009, Pulaski was granted an honorary U.S. citizenship, an honor which has been given to only seven people. Casimir Pulaski Day is a major holiday in places with large Polish-American populations, such as Chicago. I really like this holiday, not only because I'm descended from Polish immigrants, but also because it makes me feel like "my people" were truly a part of America's fight for freedom. (I do not have any genetic ties to patriots who fought in the American Revolution, which I've already discussed here.) Plus, my grandfather's name was Casimer, so the holiday makes me think of him, too. :-) In the 1830s, a military fort was built at the mouth of the Savannah River on Georgia's Coast. It was named Fort Pulaski in honor of Casimir Pulaski. Today, it is a National Monument and focuses on educating visitors about the Civil War. We visited the fort in 2010, so I thought I would post some photos from our trip. Mr. Bub loved the canons! Little Girl was also there, too, just in my belly! If you are ever in the Savannah area, we highly recommend visiting! My Great Aunt Yola gave this Valentine to my Grandma Dina back in the 1920s when they were schoolgirls. I love how she signs her full name - as if it would be from another Yola! I found it in some of my Grandma's things a few months ago. It obviously must have meant a lot to her to keep it all those years. On a side note, this is one of the weirdest Valentines I've ever seen. "Nobody better BEAT my Time." Not so sure what that's supposed to mean, and the fact that he looks as if he is about to hit her with the club is a bit disconcerting. Can you imagine the response if a child handed out Valentines like this today?
Love this photo of my maternal grandparents, Dina Licciardi and Bill Bellan. They were newly engaged after having met at a USO function after WWII (They were both veterans.). Grandpa looks pretty happy, but Grandma looks kind of bored. My husband says it looks like Grandma is reluctantly holding Grandpa's hand - I'm generally not a fan of holding hands, especially in public - After seeing this photo, my husband says it must be genetic.
My grandparents were generally very social people. My grandmother loved having people over and entertaining; I'm sure they hosted many New Year's Eve parties of their own once they were married and had a home. When we were little, my brother and I would find those obnoxious old metal New Year's noisemakers in their basement and, of course, we'd drive everyone nuts with them. ©2012, copyright Emily Kowalski Schroeder Today is Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day. On December 7, 1941, Japanese forces attacked Hawaii's Pearl Harbor, essentially bringing the United States into World War II. My grandfather, William Bellan, fought on the Pacific Front in the War. He is pictured here along with other Cleveland, Ohio infantrymen from the 37th Division. It was published in the Cleveland Plain Dealer on April 10, 1944, with the caption: "Nineteen Clevelanders on Bougainville. Seasoned veterans of jungle fighting after nearly two years overseas, these 37th division infantrymen have fought for control of the Northern Solomons from New Georgia to Bougainville." I know that the Solomon Islands are somewhere in the vast Pacific, but I had to look up details about this military campaign because I don't remember learning about it. Bougainville Island is located in the South Pacific, not far from Papua New Guinea. Turns out that the Bougainville Campaign lasted almost two years, not ending until the Japanese surrendered in August 1945. The Japanese took it over in 1942, built several airfields and naval anchorages, and strategically it became very important in their quest to take the other Solomon Islands, as well as in disrupting crucial communication lines between the United States, Australia, and New Zealand.
For people of my generation, who are used to traveling pretty much anywhere we want with relative ease, it is difficult to imagine the thoughts of the servicemen and women who literally went halfway around the world to fight for our country. In a time before commercial air travel and interstate highways, average people of this generation rarely even traveled out of state, let alone to a different country or continent. The idea must have been, pardon the pun, foreign to them. But, they all had very specific jobs to accomplish, and I'm sure that the Armed Forces leadership didn't let them dwell too much on just how far away from home they really were. And I wonder how my grandfather's parents, who were immigrants from Croatia, felt about the possibility of one of their children becoming seriously injured or dying in a part of the world they had never heard of and one that was completely inaccessible to them. Probably not what they had in mind when they decided to come to America to live and raise a family. (My grandfather's mom passed away in April 1946; I'm not exactly sure when my grandfather returned from his service, but I do hope it was in time to see his mom before she died.) Today's lesson: You may find yourself WANTING to learn about moments in U.S. history if you know that one of your ancestors played an active part in shaping it. ©2012, copyright Emily Kowalski Schroeder Kind of a last minute post for today, but I just had to do something in honor of Repeal Day. This is a photo of my Dad's parents, Cas and Veronica Kowalski, probably some time in the early 1940s. (My grandfather is third from the right, with his hand around my grandmother's waist.) As you can see, they are having a grand old time and enjoying their share of 'spirits.' My grandparents were kids when Prohibition was in effect, but I'm sure they must have remembered their parents and other elders discussing it. It's a shame I never got to ask them about it; I would have liked to know how my great-grandparents got around it. (They were Polish Catholic working-class immigrants - you're telling me they went 14 years without a drink? HA!) So, let's give a toast to Repeal Day! ©2012, copyright Emily Kowalski Schroeder
The website Geneabloggers celebrates the holiday season by posting daily blogging prompts to help genealogy bloggers record holiday memories. When I have time, I am going to try to participate. Today's prompt is "The Christmas Tree." My family always bought a real tree. Every. Year. We lived in the suburbs so usually we would go out some Saturday shortly after Thanksgiving and drive to a tree farm in the boonies. I can't remember where we would go and I actually think it varied from year to year. It was usually pretty cold and sometimes there was already snow on the ground. We weren't picky about tree type - sometimes it was a fir and at other times it was a spruce - but we always got a big one. Not Chevy-Chase-Christmas-Vacation BIG, but still pretty big AND round. My dad usually had to saw off some of the top AND bottom so that it would vertically fit in our house. So, we'd strap it to the roof of our station wagon (or later our big 'ole red conversion van) and bring it home. Then the real fun would begin. See, the tree stand we had was old - it was metal, rusty, and crooked even WITHOUT a tree in it! My dad would situate himself at the bottom under the tree and at least two of us would have to hold the tree by the trunk while he screwed in the trunk. It usually took several tries of screwing and unscrewing the pins in and out before the tree was straight. And sometimes we STILL couldn't get it straight, at which point my dad would get some small pieces of scrap wood and prop them under the leaning side of the tree. Once the tree was "stable" in the stand, my parents would bring the decoration boxes out of the attic. First, the colorful strings of lights went on the tree (after my parents untangled them out of the box - usually not a small task!) Our favorites were always the bubble lights - the ones that started shooting up bubbles in the colored liquid after warming up. Then, the shiny garland went on the tree. Our garland was of different colors and varieties - some strands were so old that they were little more than strings with a few shiny tendrils left on them, and some of the strands were much more full. Then came the ornaments. Of course, this was always our favorite part as kids because this was where we could participate the most. Like the garland, we had a mish-mash of ornaments - some were antiques that my parents got from their parents, some were from craft shows, some were photos, some were personalized, some had been gifts, some we made at school, etc. It was always fun to pull them out of the boxes, unwrap them from the Kleenex tissues in which they were haphazardly stored, and remember the different times they represented. My dad would then get up on a chair and place the angel on top. Our angel was an antique and very fragile. She must have been made in the 30s or 40s - she had that Glinda-the-Good-Witch hairstyle. Usually, when we were done with ornaments and angel, my dad tried to coerce us to put some silvery tinsel on the tree as a finishing touch. That stuff got EVERYWHERE - what a mess it created! (You'll see on the photos above that there was NO tinsel on that tree - my mom must have won out that year!) Having a real tree in the house at Christmastime was pretty neat as a kid, and it made the house smell nice and piney. However, it was hell when it came to taking down the trimmings and getting the thing out to the curb for garbage pick-up. Even if you keep the stand full of water, after more than a month of being cut, the tree dries out, which leaves its needles extra sharp and prickley. Taking off the ornaments, garland, and lights literally hurt your hands and arms. Then, it usually took several of us to carry the thing to the door, at which point we usually would have to SHOVE it through. Oh, and during this whole process, dead pine needles fell ALL over the place - floor, furniture, toys, the dog's water bowl - whatever happened to be around. Our old Kirby vacuum cleaner was never able to pick them all up, which meant that we had to get down on our hands and knees and pick them up one by one. Tedious work, indeed.
After my husband and I bought our first home (we didn't even try to put a tree in our little apartment), we decided to go artificial. The fake ones look so authentic these days and they are SO much easier to set up and put away. Plus, they are much less expensive in the long term when compared with having to buy a cut tree every year. Our kids get just as much joy out of setting it up and decorating it as me and my siblings did with the real trees. ©2012, copyright Emily Kowalski Schroeder Today, November 18th, is Mickey Mouse Day. On this day in 1928, Mickey's first successful cartoon, Steamboat Willie, was released in New York City. In honor of Mickey's "birthday," I am posting a couple of photos of Mr. Bub wearing Mickey ears during his first visit to Walt Disney World in February 2010. He was about 27 months old, and a little too young to appreciate the coolness of the place, but it was fun nonetheless. ©2012, copyright Emily Kowalski Schroeder
Here I am with my brother and cousins at the "kiddie table" at our family's Thanksgiving dinner in 1984. I was 6 years old. Throughout the years, the kiddie table was THE place to eat - no one wanted to sit at the adult table and listen to them talk about taxes, politics, and the pathetic states of our sports teams. (Um, Cleveland - 'nuff said.) Instead, we wanted to be silly and talk about crappy 80s movies, ask ourselves, "What exactly IS in the beet mold?," and, most importantly, poke fun at our elder family members. As I got older, I was often plucked from the kiddie table and asked to sit with the adults when there was an opening - such were the perils of being the oldest. It wasn't much fun. I usually went back and at least ate dessert with my younger cousins.
©2012, copyright Emily Kowalski Schroeder |
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