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September 11, 2004
Remembering Grandma and Grandpa
I love looking at old photographs. We always smile in photographs! I guess because we are told to say "Cheese". Very funny. Cheddar!!
I remember my paternal grandparents very, very well because I lived with them from the time I was one to almost six. And we lived in the same apartment building on the South Side of Chicago until I was eleven years old. I saw them both every day.
I used to "work" with grandpa. He owned the apartment building and he taught me that work was play. Grandma use to try to get me to eat! And she taught me how to tell the truth. They both taught me that I could be anything, do anything, as long as I was willing to work for it.
Yes I love going back to those times. The lake, the apartment I grew up in, and Carmen the chihuahua. Always cutting in on the act, Carmen was a diva and we used to terrorize each other because I HAD to be the center of all attention! My grandfather had a wonderful, dry sense of humor and that little Hitler mustache (grandma and grandpa were from Austria) just tickled me!
I have so many fond memories and I wish they were still here for me to share this day with them. Bless you grandma and grandpa Klutsarets.
My maternal grandparents were also very interesting. I lived 6 months of my first year of life with them out in California. I don't remember anything from then but the fact that I learned to swim. I was eight months old. Or maybe I am remembering my cousin telling the story of the day I pooped in the pool!
My nana was from Limerick, Ireland and she was a drill sargeant of a lady and could scare the smirk right off of my face! I got the gift of the gab from my Irish roots. Contrary to popular belief, the gift of the gab is not the LOVE of talking. It is the ability to talk people into things! And I got that too, thankfully.
My grandfather was from Germany and he had been a detective on the Chicago police force. He taught me to suspect everyone, trust no one. I would make a good cop. My Aunt Lorraine lived in the house my grandparents owned and she was my favorite Aunt. Aunt Lorraine was my mother's oldest sister.
I loved that house and we visited often. Nana if you can hear me honey, I love you and grandpa, I am taking care and have a healthy amount of paranoia thanks to you! This day is to honour you grandma and grandpa Boske.
As you can probably guess I was not born Kat Caverly. My father and his brothers got tired of having everyone butcher their name, Klutsarets, so they changed their name to Klutcharch. Stop laughing. I'm serious! When I was a kid I was just happy that I wasn't born into the Kluts side of the family! Seriously, I have relatives named Kluts.
Yes, humor is a defense and I learned early to defend myself and my name! When I divorced my first husband and I got the papers that said that I could resume my maiden name. I replied, "YOU can resume my maiden name." And Caverly stuck. Kat is a topic for another day!
Posted by photocartoonist at September 11, 2004 12:01 PM