I don’t remember being born and I won’t remember dying, but between these events I have made and will make memories. Ten years ago I moved from the large house our family had lived in for 35 years and there were thousands of photographs that I could not toss without examining. Now 10 years later the photos remain sequestered in cardboard boxes. This blog will consist of some photos and the memories each generates.
Uncle Mickey – Amsterdam Avenue
We lived for a time on Amsterdam Avenue on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. This badly damaged photo was only one of several that were rescued from an album caught in a flood in San Rafael, California in 1982
We three are on the roof of our building, my Uncle Mickey, Mother’s brother, Joe, my brother and me in the front. This would be in the 1930s.
Uncle Mickey came to New Your City to find work, as did thousands of other during the Great Depression. When we moved to 108th Street, he lived with us, but I am not certain whether he lived with us at this time. My guess is that did. He like many before and after, moved in with relatives as they looked for a job and got their footing in the big city. I remember him as kind.
daily woodring 