Many things are puzzling in families-- mine included. One in ours: why didn't we travel to Los Angeles sooner once we moved to Oregon? A plan had been made by our NYC branch to meet in southern California over Xmas... beaches, marine museum and zoo would entertain the children. We flew to LA earlier for a visit with Ron's cousin Rosita.
Turned out to be the very best opening to the West. The short version of the complex story. Rosita's father, brother to Ron's mother Becky, left Europe too late in the 1920s to come to U.S. He ended up in Argentina, where he made a life as furrier. Rosita, the younger of his two children, in 1950 left Buenos Aires, she was 18, and came to Becky's house in Brighton Beach Brooklyn to figure out how she would make her way in America.
How would she and Ron, two years younger, communicate? She did not speak English; he did not know Spanish. Yiddish was the language they had in common, the household language of the Blooms, Ron's first. Through some push and pull the family managed to get Rosita into the local high school where she quickly became an English-speaker. [All the above links are to earlier blogposts, include lovely old photos of my late in-laws.] The two of them spent many hours walking the boardwalk, exchanging adolescent thoughts.
Rosita moved to Los Angeles, married, had two children--just like us and Ron's two sisters, a boy and a girl. She also became a potter; we have taken good care of her lovely vase, wedding present in 1966. Last saw her when she visited the east coast in 1988. Tova, Rosita's daughter was on the sidewalk with her mother to greet us as we arrived-- and stayed on to add to our animated exchanges.
along some of his tapestries. Rosita hung hers immediately. And another for Tova. In the evening we met up with two more family members, Lee and Cathy, son and daughter in law, for dinner in an Indian restaurant. Back the next day, more talk, admire Rosita's cactus
Reluctantly leave with our
farewell oranges--amazing--from her tree. Oh, I want to go back. Had forgotten why I had this photo of orange pieces in my photo file. Of course! My was a wish to hold onto being with Rosita and her family as I ate the last orange.