...My great grandfather was stabbed to death in Newark in the 70's. Here, he's beaming in a newspaper article: "_______ sits in a pile of $100 war bonds he just purchased. _____ says buy war bonds and preserve the American way!"

Looking at a picture of one of his business's checks, each of which contained a picture of his face: "He loved being a businessman. He loved making money." -My mother

Grandma's brother in his WWII army uniform "Look at him, smiling! He had the devil in him, he did! Until he lost it."

He died of cancer a long time ago in a hospital. Everyone beamed about his pretty wife. I have fleeting memories of him from my youth.

I heard he was begging for cigarettes on his deathbed.

He wrote a book that taught people how to draw. He was very artistic. He had a nervous breakdown.

It runs in that side of the family.

(It practically gallops, as a famous Jewish guy once said.)

"This is so-and-so, so-and-so, and Arlene. He became a doctor and they both married doctors. A success story!" -My mother

Grandma was a very pretty woman. Everyone wondered why she married my grandfather, who wasn't good looking.

His family had a successful business.

Duh.

Grandma was crazy too, and she got crazier when she became senile. Now she's just gone.

My mother asks if I want to go see her, and I don't.

It's kind of like she's been dead for over a decade anyway.

My mother's making a visit today. Wish her luck.

Or something.