
Last week, Dave's grandmother, Zenith, passed away at age 96. She was a smart, tough, clever, and welcoming cookie, and she accepted me into her clan of grandchildren and great-grandchildren as if I was one of her own.
Z was 94-years-old at our wedding and she spent the whole party on the dance floor, cha-cha-ing and hora-ing with the rest of us - a wave of blue in 3-inch heels.
Before my father-in-law left Z's home last week, he brought back a few of what he promises is a very large and thorough stack of Z's correspondence over the last seventy or so years. Birth announcements, summer camp post cards, congratulatory telegrams....Z kept them all, carefully persevered and well documented in her Florida apartment.
Over the next few weeks I'd like to explore Z's life through her letters and share my findings with you. In this way, we can honor Z and remind ourselves why, when it comes to personal correspondence, paper beats email every time.
Let's start with my father-in-law's birth in June of 1948. Z and Grandpa Sid sent an elegant little engraved birth announcement:

And Z's friends responded in kind, with little notes on personalized stationery of their own:

But the best card written and received upon the arrival of Marty to this world came from his sister, Nancy, who at the time was about 10 years old and not necessarily looking for a baby brother:
My favorite part:
"Am I mad! All because of Fred's briss [sic] I can't go to the country. I suppose you've gathered that I don't like the name Martin so I'll call him Fred."
And a postscript, on the back of the envelope:
"PPPPPS: Maybe if he comes home 21 1/4 inches I'll change my mind and love and take care of him."
Sounds familiar. I remember telling my mom that my brother could sleep in the basement when they first brought him home from the hospital!
More to come. Readers, if you've saved notes from long ago and would like to share them on this blog, send them my way. I'd love to read them with you.