Back from Hiatus

After a long hiatus (ProGen kept me quite busy over the past 18 months), I’m back and ready to blog, with a new focus and a renewed perspective on genealogy. I’ve been thinking a lot about what kind of content I’d like to feature here. I will continue to share some of my own family history and experiences in genealogy, as well as tips, strategies, genealogy-related news stories from other sources, and guest posts (contact me if you’re interested in writing a one).

Going forward, I also want to feature stories about migration and immigration. Migration is part of the human condition, and always has been. Our ancestors were always on the move, and our heritage and ethnicities are not static but rather long processes that have unfolded over time, despite geography, topography, and man-made boundaries. Each of us is unique as a result of that process. Genealogy is an exploration of the ancestral journey that brought us to this moment, but is also a reflection on the universality of that journey—a shared journey that should inspire empathy and understanding. I hope you’ll join me!

Posted in family history, immigration, migration

Sephardi community launches genealogy service

Descendants of Jews who fled the Inquisition will get assistance proving their heritage in their bid for a Spanish or Portuguese passport

Source: Sephardi community launches genealogy service

Posted in family trees

Colorado

Memory Imprints

Today marks the end of an era for my family. My great aunt and her children and grandchildren are moving from Denver to Pikesville, Maryland. My great aunt is 97 years old, and though she’s traveled, this is her first time residing outside of Colorado. I’m very happy to have them closer by, and I still have many cousins (probably some I don’t even know about) in Colorado, but my great aunt’s relocation represents the complete disappearance of a fantasy that I have had of Colorado as my home state—of being from and perhaps someday returning to Colorado, where three generations of my family (including me and my brother) were born, where several branches of that family resided when they first came to the United States from Eastern Europe, and where the Brooklynites in the family (on my father’s side and my maternal grandfather’s side) eventually succumbed, at least for…

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Posted in family trees

Professional Genealogical Services

I recently completed the Boston University Certificate Program in Genealogical Research and am taking my genealogical services business to the next level. I will eventually be rolling out a website specifically for these services, but for the time being, if you’re interested in more information, please visit my website at www.heatherdubnick.com. You may also be interested in my family and personal history services site, memoryimprints.net.

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Posted in family trees

Memories of Grandma Rose

Today marks the fifth anniversary (on the Jewish calendar) of my grandmother Rose Aptaker Dubnick’s death. My cousin Erica Bauman wrote this piece to honor her memory. 

Erica, a single working mother living in Cincinnati for the past six years, is originally from the East Coast. When not running around town with her kiddo, Erica is at a local coffee shop putting her dreams to work on some writing venture. You can find some of her work on her website www.herlifeafter30.com and (recently published in the Lifestyle/Improvements and Beauty sections of) www.societyletters.com, as well as a review on seasoningforeverypalate.wordpress.com.


Rose and Herman Dubnick wedding

Rose and Herman Dubnick wedding

“Have you talked to your mother? When was the last time you called her? What is she doing? How is she? I called her already, yesterday, do you know anything? What about your brother? Where is he? Is he working? How’s Kayla? What are you doing today? How’s your diet? Why aren’t you talking? Hello? I didn’t call you to hear myself talk…”

We spoke once a week and sometimes more. There were often stretches of time where we did not speak for weeks. That always caused an issue. She would track me down, through other family members:

“Have you heard from Erica?”

“Ma, she’s fine. She just doesn’t talk sometimes, I don’t know. It’s the way she’s always been. You know how she gets in those moods.”

“No, there’s something wrong. I can tell. What do you think it is?”

“I don’t know MA, you’ll have to ask her.”

“ASK HER?! I can’t ask her! She hasn’t called me back so I’m asking you! Why don’t you know anything? Did something happen?”

“Ma…”

Her intuition was magical. She called me out on fears and failures, including the ones I did not want to talk about just yet. While it was always entertaining to discuss the latest fashion trends, great movies, and her recent travels to visit our family (which was spread across the U.S.), it was her vulnerability that moved me most.

I hated when she embarrassed me by speaking her mind over a cold plate at a restaurant or about an inaccurately rung up item at the cash register, or when she forced me to step out into the open area of a dressing room so that she could fuss over the fit of clothing on my body (or the random stranger who dared to walk out after me). However, her guilelessness also meant that when it came to my talent in parking too long at the points of my life I needed to move on from, her keen sense and blunt form were met with my everlasting gratitude.

Grandma Rose loved her family. They were her pride and joy. Staying connected via phone calls, email, skype, and mailed out greeting cards were high priority. She had to be “in the know,” with the family. She mediated arguments and stand-offs, and sometimes she started them…all from love.

Grandma Rose grew up at a time when families were all crammed in one house or living on the same street. She transitioned very well from that time, keeping family connections intact. She did that thing that grandmas do, asking about everyone, nagging us to call each other, making sure we attended each other’s special events, and correcting us for unnecessary exclusions. What I did not realize until now, was the depth of that quest. Her family was her life. She lived vicariously through our stories and took great pleasure in passing them on. Grandma Rose was the glue, and she “kept us going” in regards to family connection and legacy. She was not conscious of her effort, but she acted like it was everything, to disconnect was almost unforgivable.

When she passed, what was glued seemed to slip. The family, physically distant, began to feel fractured. We are not discontent, just disconnected. There are moments were we thrive; in efforts like the studies ongoing for Oaks and Roots, in the recipes shared on Seasoning for Every Palate, smatterings of social media conversations, the passing of pictures, and the stories we beg each other to share. It is there that we still hear Rose, and continue to add fresh glue to our family connections. We rely on our internet connection and text messages to allow our legacy to take residence in our homes. This is how it’s done nowadays.

I hope, for the memory of our Grandma Rose that we continue to have the conversations she now cannot. I hope that we can remember to disconnect from our daily grind enough to take advantage of moments like this, where we remember her and lend focus to each other’s lives for a moment in exchange for one more puzzle piece to be added to our legacy, and that we continue ask the questions that she would ask, seeking to continue to know each other, being full of nerve and breaking each other’s barriers, celebrating victories, asking hard questions, and retelling old stories. That is how she taught me to lead a family, through endless conversation. I miss having those with her, and I feel her memory revived when they take place. In this way, she lives on.

 

Rose Dubnick. Posterized photo by Randa Dubnick

Rose Dubnick. Posterized photo by Randa Dubnick

Posted in family trees

Motherhood in Another Era: Life before Antibiotics

My cousin Bob Fitterman has written a fascinating account of the tribulations that my great great grandmother Rebecca Steinreich Maltz and great grandmother Fannie Maltz Zagon encountered when raising their large families: http://stories.theplanetzagon.com/150

The effects of medical progress are certainly evident from one generation to the next!

Posted in family history, Maltz, New York, Steinreich, Zagon

Grandma Fannie’s Afghans (Guest Post by Mindy Fitterman)

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Editor’s note: This guest post, contributed by Mindy Fitterman, my first cousin once removed on my mother’s father’s side, is about my great grandmother and Mindy’s grandmother Fannie Maltz Zagon (1888–1972).

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It’s probably my earliest textile memory: considerable weight, the pungent scent of wool, and beautiful colors. Grandma’s afghan is large enough to cover a full-size bed but mostly I remember my mom pulling it out when someone was cold. The color combinations held endless fascination for me. When I went to college, I took it with me…a colorful reminder of home and family. This year, for the first time in a long time, I pulled it out of my blanket chest and put it on my bed. There is was again: the weight, the scent, the colors – my own little blanket of many colors.

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My maternal grandmother, Fannie Maltz Zagon, made dozens of these afghans from old family sweaters – enough to give at least one to each of her seven children. She even made two small afghans for my dolls.

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Most of the afghans had a single unifying color around all the granny squares and the outer border. My mom had one with gray borders, but she had another one that looked different from all the rest; the borders on the squares were different colors. It looked like Grandma used leftovers, and yet she achieved visual unity because of the layout and a framing border of white with green scallops. Matching squares were arranged in stripes of varying length. The stripes were arranged almost symmetrically, but not quite – just enough to keep your eye moving.

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Whenever I look at it, I can almost hear Grandma thinking about the colors and the symmetry. Her tight precise stitches speak of determination, strong hands and an exacting eye…and I remember my mother’s cousin Rose telling my mom, “Your mother ran a tight ship.”

 

Growing up, Grandma was in New York and I was in Colorado, so I never saw these projects unfold. I wonder who got the idea to make the afghans? Were they creative fun or busy work or a little of both? Was anyone else involved in the designs?

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Grandma’s life was not easy. She lived in poverty most of her childhood. As a teen, she left school to support the family after her father’s death, and later survived the Great Depression with seven children and an alcoholic husband. As the children married and left home, Fannie faced psychiatric issues and treatment. For years, she moved from the home of one child to another. When I was ten, she lived with my family for a few months, and she taught me to knit and crochet. Eventually, Grandma was institutionalized; the details of that decision are few and far between.

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Often, my mother told me that Grandma’s proudest achievement was the survival of all seven of her children….a true accomplishment in her time. (Fannie also inspired future generations to make afghans of their own.) The afghans now scattered among her 14 grandchildren are testament of Fannie’s industry and creativity. Spotting one of the afghans in a cousin’s home is like affirming clan membership. Did Grandma know we would treasure them all these years later and that they would remind us of her? 

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Mindy Fitterman has been playing with color, paper, and cloth since forever. She is a retired public health nutritionist, now enrolled in the Art Cloth Mastery Program. View her Flickr sets at https://www.flickr.com/photos/minkas_studio/sets/ with photos that link to her blogs.

Posted in Brooklyn, family history, family trees, guest posts, heirlooms, Maltz, New York, Zagon | Tagged , , , ,