Susan, Nadia, and Fifth Generation Yavorsky Wear the Bracelet

Grandma Stellman: She smoked cigarettes and because of her and her daughters, I've loved Nature, The Moon, Athletics, Teaching, Travel, Feminism.

My memories of Grandma are of her house when we had no where else to go, due to my dad's endeavors.

Susan

Nadia and Wonder Woman

 My husband, my first beau, Joseph Tuck, nephew to Andy Tuck, whom Barbara dated and who died in a car crash in the 1920's---our courtship began at 923 Maryland Ave in 1963. We were 12 years old. We went steady, which lasted about two months. The legacy goes like this.

·      In the tradition of beaux, he had to climb up a steep hill to walk me home from Wescott Street and  Levy Jr. High.

·      He had to pick me up entering through the vestibule for parties or dances.

·      The goodnight on the front porch was ended abruptly with a Stellman flicker of the porch light.

·      For my birthday I was allowed to have a party with our gang in the living room. We danced to Johnny Mathis, spun the bottle and the making out took place on the front porch.

·      Telephone calls happened on the stairs landing. This meant that my conversations could be heard from upstairs and downstairs! (Eventually we got the cord long enough that I could reach all the way down into the tiny pink bathroom under the stairs.)

·      The sunroom/TV room became a private sanctuary on Friday nights where Joe and I would "watch" Gunsmoke.

·      I remember bats in the basement and being a little embarrassed by the shoddy furniture and worn down kitchen and pantry. Joe, oblivious to it, stood in there with me, discussing  the onset of drinking and whether or not to wear bell bottoms.

My father was off in Peru. Grandma and Jane were about as permissive parents as you could dream for. We left for Peru in December. Two years later we were back when Pater Familia John was a cancer patient. 

I remember Grandma chain smoked cigarettes and I loved her special goulash----hamburger spaghetti sauce over elbow noodles. She had a special chair from which she watched her soap operas.

She only entered my drama once. In my 20's she told me to shave my legs,  and to marry Michael Zingale,  the musician, and "get it over with." (I did)

Many more memories of cousins: cigarettes snuck out of purses, lighting up sitting on the curb up at The Circle. Gretchen even went out with one of Joe's mates once.

I've counted the wrinkles in Grandma's photo---there's one for each grandchild. This photo of Nadia in the bracelet shows another in the oven, a wee baby girl to carry on the multigenerational Stellman traditions. I say hurray for wrinkles, and the wisdom and wonder they bring.

Cindy Wearing the Bracelet

I remember the house on Maryland Ave in Syracuse. I did not go there as often as some of the other cousins, who probably have many more memories.

• I remember sleeping in the sunroom, the morning glories growing up the backside of the house
• The fireplace where the girls supposedly stuck notes between the bricks
• The basement with the pile of coal
• Sleeping upstairs in the front bedroom
• The piano at the bottom of the stairs
• Mixing the orange coloring into the margarine
• Sitting on the front porch with grandpa
• The smell of an old house
• Climbing the steps  up to the top of  the hill.’

Mother’s Memories:

Having their cousin Carlyle take care of them when Grandma went to visit Grandpa in PA.  I think it was Pennsylvania where he worked for Hertz.  One of the girls got her period during this time and this young bachelor had to deal with this. That must have been something.

Mine:

Taking grandma, in her brown suit,  to the Westchester airport and watching her walk to the plane, straight back, smile on her face, on the arm of a young man,  She always perked up when a man was around.

Sitting in the den watching TV with her and grandpa.

I was always in awe of her posture.  So straight, and so flexible.

Even into her 80’s she stood tall, head up shoulders back and even then could sit crossed legged on the floor.

Mom would have me take her to Cook’s, a local eating place. She loved to go out for lunch, she loved to eat and to watch the people.

Mom told me when Gram was a small child she had to go door to door selling muffins to make money for the family.

I wonder how she met Louise?   Anyone know?

Patty Wearing the Bracelet

I remember being fascinated by that bracelet, turning over each brass face and looking for mine.  Memorizing the names of all my cousins, some so much older that they seemed part of the "grown-ups" and another group so COOL that I could only wish to be included in their fun (you know who you are). Gramma always had time for me and I recall that big house in Syracuse, the steps to the park, the sun room upstairs with the rickety floor and the vines climbing up the side, the stucco walls of the house outside, the grand sweeping staircase with the wide banister, the small cubbyholes just right for hiding in,  sleeping in the front room upstairs and watching the weird shadows and light shifting on the walls from the cars passing outside, the city noises mixed with November rains hitting the windows and keeping me awake,  the smell of old house and tobacco, the chaos and crazy wonderful family reunions----all these snatches of memories come pouring in when I see the bracelet.

Gramma used to babysit me when our parents went away on business trips.  I remember one time sitting across the dining room table in the house on Croton Ave and watching her take deep drags on her cigarette while drinking black coffee. "Gramm", I said with the intense conviction of a 12 year old, " when are you going to quit smoking--it's bad for you!"  She stared at me hard for a moment, pulled a great deal of smoke down into her lungs and let it out slowly, savoring the drama. "What!, So I won't die young?" she replied.

 Another conversation I had with her: we were chatting about dating and marriage.  I was still about 12 at the time with only a passing interest in boys, my true love having four legs and a whinny. (there is some argument that this is still so)  "In my day, if a girl wasn't married by the time she was 16, she was considered On The Shelf." She declared. "Wow," I said (or something like that ). "How old were you when you got married?"  Gramma gave me that steady, sly look and the next two words were slowly, deliberately spoken, with each syllable hitting the air crisply "twenty-six". And that was the end of the conversation.

  

When we were 13 or 14, my best friend and neighbor, Mary Link, and I would often sneak out (or try to) of the house to go to visit the "fort".   Mike and Bryan Roberts and friends had built a get away in the woods complete with a radio, bunk beds,  some really old furniture, and paraphernalia that is now probably legal in Washington State.  When my parents were home I did not try to sneak out because my Mom ALWAYS knew.  It was not for lack of rebellious spirit, attempt or desire. It's just that the other kids didn't want me along because if I was there, we would get caught.  One night about 11:00 pm when Gramm was watching over me (I have no idea or recollection where Ginny was; perhaps she was in college) Mary and I decided to go to the fort.  We waited until we were sure Gram was asleep. (In retrospect I now know that she could not possible have been asleep.) There was about 6 inches of snow on the ground and I cleverly walked backwards through the snow so that anyone seeing my footprints would think I had come into the house, not out.  However, when Mary and I tried to sneak back in around 2:00 am, Gramma was up waiting for me.  I don't recall her yelling or anything or even a lecture.  It was terrible enough that I had worried her.  I never snuck out of the house again after that---but mostly because that night had confirmed the neighborhood's opinion that I was bad luck for the sneak out!  Gramma was scary and sarcastic and solid and warm and strong--- I hope that I can grow up to be just like her!