Auntie Edith kept this “sexy” photo in her wallet and when we went to lunch she’d pull it out and show it to me…..again and again….I never tired to looking at it. She always wanted to be a dancer, she told me when she was 91. Ever the fairy princess, that’s me, I thought well, start now at age 91. Bad advice.
Update: I received many emails about my dear Aunt Edith’s pretty legs! If only she had lived long enough to read them herself.
(Image: When Edith was growing up, she lived in this pretty apartment house on Milastrasse, now a landmark because it was originally built by a well known beer mfg. She lived on the top floor in a room called “the Winter Garden.”
Her photo, of course, was small in size. I made the larger version on the Canon printer I smashed to bits after my partner’s death. Some people do that. They break everything; it just releases a lot of pain. So I don’t have a photo printer at the moment. But I do have Auntie Edith’s photo, which is better anyway.
She, like me, could have been living in Berlin, her native home, until war moved her to exotic places she had surely never even dreamed of. Her husband, whom I never met, died a terrible death and she remained a lifelong widow and great mom and grandmom and even a great-grandmom. I always felt a closeness to Edith, and I will miss her..
She passed away in her late 90s recently, but I was so involved with Burt”a final weeks, that I couldn’t do anything else. No multi-tasking for me. I was focussed on Burt, and that was it.
To Aunt Edith and her family: I am so sorry. Aunt Edith was born in 1910, so you can imagine what her eyes saw. She, like my mom and dad, felt held back by their accents that they just couldn’t get rid of, and, just like today, limited her possibilities. But, with me, she felt so fear, and spoke in English to me, which surprised her daughter who always spoke German to her, believing she understood that language the best.
The shot of Aunt Edith was taken at Ocean Beach, I’d say in the early 1950s. For many years she and her mom (my Oma on my dad’s side) lived in the Richmond District near Golden Gate Park. I love visiting them because Oma and Edith would gently rub my arms until I fell asleep. I did the same with Burt, and he, just like me, loved being touched in that way.