I love this because I love postcards, still send them, and I am incidentally currently busy deciphering postcards my grandfather sent from WWI while serving in the Austro-Hungarian army. I had a similar experience as yours in that one of those postcards shows his regiment, and only upon magnifying it did I realize my grandfather was in it and had, in fact, drawn a tiny arrow pointing at himself. I would hardly have recognized him as a gaunt young man in uniform. Thankfully, I've got dates on those postcards, either he dated them writing to his brother, also serving in the military at the time, or there's the oh-so-helpful postmark. Alas, the images shown on the other side of those vanity cards? Many of them are a puzzle! In any case, what a startling and ultimately precious find this postcard is for you!
Eliza! I can feel the shock of seeing your mom here, so unexpectedly. It is a message from another world. I’m glad that you saw a different person from the one you remember. It gives us hope to find the small things that fill out the complex whole that is a human life.
I’m honored that you referenced my post. Thank you for your lovely comments. Grief isn’t simply a single emotion. It surprises us by feeling sometimes like deep sadness, and sometimes like joy. Much gratitude for sharing your experience.
You convey the surprise and emotion of this find beautifully. The photo itself is striking too. She’s dwarfed by that cathedral! Do you suppose Lennart took it?
I have a photo of my young father in Europe that I can’t place either and thought I’d try AI or reverse image searches but haven’t really explored that yet. Let us know if you find out more. And yes, keep going with photos—
The photos are a whole other world. They had a photography interest (and an eye for it). Phyllis wrote in here .. she was with them in Paris in 1960! How wonderful is Substack??
Mary Roblyn's iPhone image after her husband crossed over is a story that left me haunted by the familiarity of that eerie feeling. Finding the novelty card with you mother's photograph from 1960 invokes the same feeling of a message or visit. Yet, you see her through the eyes of a daughter who did not know her mother to be often happy, forgiving, generous.
I completely get it. I'm a daughter who felt responsible for my mother's emotional well-being in a marriage I long thought would end in divorce; until I discovered they were perfectly happy being miserable together once I was long gone from home. We can't freeze the best versions of our mothers or are selves, but it's nice to to discover something new that revises the story we've been telling ourselves about ourselves and our mothers. It is like a voice from the beyond in my head.
I love this because I love postcards, still send them, and I am incidentally currently busy deciphering postcards my grandfather sent from WWI while serving in the Austro-Hungarian army. I had a similar experience as yours in that one of those postcards shows his regiment, and only upon magnifying it did I realize my grandfather was in it and had, in fact, drawn a tiny arrow pointing at himself. I would hardly have recognized him as a gaunt young man in uniform. Thankfully, I've got dates on those postcards, either he dated them writing to his brother, also serving in the military at the time, or there's the oh-so-helpful postmark. Alas, the images shown on the other side of those vanity cards? Many of them are a puzzle! In any case, what a startling and ultimately precious find this postcard is for you!
Sounds like a great family history project, Annette. Following
Eliza! I can feel the shock of seeing your mom here, so unexpectedly. It is a message from another world. I’m glad that you saw a different person from the one you remember. It gives us hope to find the small things that fill out the complex whole that is a human life.
I’m honored that you referenced my post. Thank you for your lovely comments. Grief isn’t simply a single emotion. It surprises us by feeling sometimes like deep sadness, and sometimes like joy. Much gratitude for sharing your experience.
Thank you, Mary, for these observations. Grief is also so very sneaky
You convey the surprise and emotion of this find beautifully. The photo itself is striking too. She’s dwarfed by that cathedral! Do you suppose Lennart took it?
I have a photo of my young father in Europe that I can’t place either and thought I’d try AI or reverse image searches but haven’t really explored that yet. Let us know if you find out more. And yes, keep going with photos—
The photos are a whole other world. They had a photography interest (and an eye for it). Phyllis wrote in here .. she was with them in Paris in 1960! How wonderful is Substack??
Dear Eliza,
This could be the back of Notre Dame, Mimi was in Paris in September of 1960. Guess you will have to take a trip to find out !
Love from Phyllis
I know! I looked up Notre Dame images. I concluded it’s not. But .. ?
Mary Roblyn's iPhone image after her husband crossed over is a story that left me haunted by the familiarity of that eerie feeling. Finding the novelty card with you mother's photograph from 1960 invokes the same feeling of a message or visit. Yet, you see her through the eyes of a daughter who did not know her mother to be often happy, forgiving, generous.
Thanks for this observation. She was complicated. If only we could freeze the best version of our mothers (and ourselves..)
I completely get it. I'm a daughter who felt responsible for my mother's emotional well-being in a marriage I long thought would end in divorce; until I discovered they were perfectly happy being miserable together once I was long gone from home. We can't freeze the best versions of our mothers or are selves, but it's nice to to discover something new that revises the story we've been telling ourselves about ourselves and our mothers. It is like a voice from the beyond in my head.
It’s a really striking photograph, Eliza. What a surprising find.
So heartening to have these glimpses of the “before” times in our parents’ lives.
Thank you, Wendy. I'm going to work with the photos more, I think.