I’ve gotten several comments on my chair photo from yesterday. I never had the opportunity to meet my grandfather, as he died a few years before I was born. He was from all accounts quite a character, however. My mother gave me that chair one time when I was home visiting after I had gotten out of school and finally had a home of my own. We had an old Subaru station wagon at the time, and the thing barely wedged into the back end, but we drove across a couple of states with it to get it home. I have a framed photo of my Grandpa Tony; this was when he was quite young, probably early 20’s, if that.
Doesn’t he look like he owns the world?
He emigrated from Poland just before the turn of the century (the last one, not this one!), when he was barely 13. His older sister, Agnes, had been the first to arrive in the US, two years before my grandfather. She came over at age 22 to be a housekeeper in North Dakota for someone that somebody in the family knew. She worked and saved money, and eventually brought the rest of the family over (and married the man!). Grandpa settled first in South Dakota for a short time, which is where this photo was taken. He was a bachelor at the time, and eventually married my grandmother and homesteaded land in North Dakota, where he farmed and raised 8 children. My parents moved back to the farm when my grandfather was dying so my mom could help take care of him, and just stayed on.
Here is a photo of Great-Aunt Agnes in her heyday.
I covet that hat more than I can say. Apparently she had quite a collection of hats, but unfortunately nobody thought to save them when she died.
One of my favorite songs is Emigrant Eyes, by Dolores Keane. It never fails to make me cry. In it, she sings about her “father’s own father” emigrating to the US from Ireland at the turn of the century, arriving at Ellis Island in a swarm of other Europeans, “decked out in the colors of Europe…turn of the century pilgrims… bound by the dream that they shared”.
“Through this sprawling tower of Babel, came a young man confused and alone. Determined and bound for America; carrying everything that he owned. Sometimes when I look in my grandfather’s emigrant eyes, I see that day reflected; I can’t hold my feelings inside. I see starting with nothing, and working hard all of his life. So don’t take it for granted, say Grandfather’s emigrant eyes.”
This is on her Solid Ground album. Give it a listen if you’ve never heard of her. I keep Grandpa Tony’s photo on my wall to remind me where I came from, and not to take any of it for granted.
What a lovely tribute!!
My grandparents were of your grandparents’ vintage. I only met my maternal grandmother when I was quite young on a trip to Greece. She died a few years later.
I guess my parents were the immigrants in my story. They both came from very big families, but not all the relatives came over; so, when we went back to visit, my brother and I were the “little Americans.”
What a lovely family history you have! And that chair is so special and beautiful. More so because it really means so much to you. Love the pic’s and I think you are a brave soul to count your yardage!
what a great story, thanks for sharing it and most especially for sharing the pictures. My grandfather came through Ellis Island as a boy of 12 or 13 in 1901 from the Austro-Hungarian Empire, basically what is now Poland, a few years after your grandfather. That same year, my father came through as a babe in arms of 1 year old from Italy. Can you picture them passing each other in the halls of Ellis Island? It may have happened. And do you know Kathleen Norris’s book, Dakota? She moved back to her grandmother’s property in Lemmon, South Dakota. The book is great. Thanks again.
I love imigrant stories. My family now has 3 generations born in Australia and dad only emigrated after World War II. It’s so lovely when your “old country” history and “new country” history start to merge.
Wow, cool family history.
I’m joining the chorus — I love that stuff! The photos! The clothes! I am an old photo freak — treasure those of my ancestors, and have great fondness for my many “orphans,” too. And the stories! Thanks, Lorette, I really enjoyed it.
I love your old pictures. I love my old pictures. I love really any old pictures like that because I start wondering what they were thinking and what was going on around them in history and in their own lives. One of the most favorite things I have ever done is tour Ellis Island with the headphones that have Tom Brokaw guiding you through it. I didn’t have anyone that I know of for sure go through there but the stories were awesome. Be sure to do it if you are ever in New York. And I’m sure you’re my long lost sister somehow cause we like so many of the same things!
More chorus. Love the pictures. Love the history. I hadn’t thought anyone would be interested in stuff like that from my past, but I find I am absolutely fascinated by your stories. My grandmother-in-law died Wednesday, so it feels rather poignant.
Thank you for posting the story about your grandfather. I have to reach farther back for my emigrant ancestors, but my DH’s grandfather & great grandfather came through Ellis Island in the early years of the 20th century. Like your grandfather, they eventually settled in North Dakota and that was where DH was born. (Thank goodness, during his stint in the Air Force, he met a Michigander and wound up here in Metro Detroit for me to meet & marry {g}). I’ve been researching my family history for about 5 years now and have been fortunate enough to find cousins who had photos of ancestors who passed before I was born. Having roots is a comforting feeling.