I call it the “Museum Room”. It is on the second floor, a converted bedroom, that Alan and Lynn have fixed up with family pictures. One wall decorated with the Cadans and the Bermans, the other given over to the Winstons and the Chatzeks.
It is a comfort to be in the room… to visit with relatives.
And there on the far wall, in a near sepia tone from age, is a photograph of Paul and Sophie Fleischner with their daughters Tiny and Eve. Paul is standing to the rear. I know little of my Grandfather. I judge him to be short in stature and somewhat stout. There is a softness to his face and dark eyes; but his expression is serious and formal.
Mommie Sophie is seated. Her hair is much darker than it was when I knew her. Her dress is dark although I can’t recall seeing her wear dark colours. Her face is also quite serious and nearly stern. And while I did not know Papa Paul (he did not live long enough to acquire a “name” like our Grandmother), I did know Momie Soph… and this photographic representation of her is foreign to me.
Seated to Mommie Soph’s right is my Mother. She is dressed in white and sporting a white bow or ribbon in her dark hair. Her head is tilted to the side and she has a precious smile that complements the posture of a young child happy to be in front of a camera.
Standing to her right is Tiny, 4 years older than Mom… maybe 12? She is also wearing a white dress… a smock style, with white stockings. She also has a white ribbon in her hair, which is worn longer than I have ever seen, wavy dark hair that falls to either side of the front of the smock. Her right hand is delicately curved and held simply at her side, her left hand is around my mother.
Tiny’s eyes are looking to the right… but the smile, the smile. Oh my… I saw that smile on Tuesday. Amy has that smile. It’s remarkable. I am not good at this “who looks like who” stuff. And I am even worse at picking out specific features. At over all resemblance I am fair.
But I tell you what… the expression of that smile in the photo lives on. Go out to Seattle and you will see it there, or on the occasion that my Cousin Amy visits East, you can catch it locally. And that smile is a warm treat… and it is worth seeking out.
And that smile brings Aunt Tiny into focus. It recalls the happiness and laughter which she uniquely brought to my life. We shared a very specific activity that became somewhat of a legend at 25 Alston Ave.
On Sunday mornings at 11:00AM Channel 11 would play Abbott and Costello movies. And whenever Tiny and Morris would be in New Haven for the weekend, I would fetch Tiny to watch the Movie with me. This was somewhat of a joke. She didn’t really like Abbott & Costello… something that I was unaware of at the time.
I would run into the Breakfast Room… “Come on Tiny!! You will miss the beginning of Abbott and Costello!! It’s Buck Privates, and I think this is your favorite!! Hurry!!” Tiny would immediately begin to laugh, “OK you go get our spot on the couch and I will be right in.”
We would lie next to each other in the den… and Tiny, oblivious to the story line… would do this: she would wait for me to laugh at a particular scene (of which there would be many) and then she would kiss me… and keep kissing me until I would kiss her back.
This was our time. No one could stand Abbott and Costello… Mom, Dad & Morris were probably delighted that they were relieved of having to endure the inanity. Tiny was not so lucky; but she never let on to me. No. This was our time. We would laugh and kiss our way thru “Who’s on First?”, or the scene that I thought was even funnier “The Susquehanna Hat Company on Bagel St.”
And it was easy to return Tiny’s affection. How could I not? One weekend she was sleeping in Paul’s old bed in my room. Lynn must have been home that weekend, which is why Tiny bunked with me; but regardless of the reason… she was there, and maybe she let on that she was stressed. I knew how to handle stress well back then… I had the perfect night time sedative: a collection of 6 or 7 “blankets”… called “Bops” in our family (ask someone else about the origin of the word). Bops had healing power & I well understood this… like chicken soup without the fat and calories.
And if Tiny was having difficulty I knew the way to take care of it. I inspected each of my Bops, smelling each one and testing the texture, and I made a selection and gave her one, “Here, Tiny, try this…”
Talk at the breakfast table the next morning confirmed the calming effects of a good Bop. Tiny couldn’t get over it. Not only was I credited with “walking important”, now I possessed a “folk remedy”…
I look at the snapshot anew. To see the smile one more time. To confirm it’s healing powers. Where moments before tears coursed their way down my cheeks, now a warm smile made its way to me… a smile that I could lovingly return.