O, BROTHER(S), WHERE ART THOU ?

(With due apologies to a movie by that almost-name)

            An undated photo of my paternal grand-father, Sam Wachs,
                                with two of his brothers.

I donot know:
   a) Did he have other brothers
   b) Whatever happened to Abe and Jack

I do know:
    He named one of his sons Jack, presumably for the brother.

 
  My grand-father was born in Warsaw, Poland, on October 25, 1883 (or eighty-thlee ...one of the few vestiges of having had another primary language other than English).  His Jewish father had come to NYC and established himself, then returned to fetch his family.  In the meantime, his wife had died. After re-marrying, the entourage came to Ellis Island around 1890.  

   Somewhere in the recesses of family lore and tradition, I remember hearing that at least one of his brothers migrated to California.  A former city councilman of Los Angeles as well as a young movie starlet had (have) the same family surname. Are they 'long lost cousins' or just a coincidence of having an atypical surname?

   Someone in the family became the 'black sheep' and had to flee to Philadelphia.  In 1962, while in the army, I met another private at the post library (the one place where our sergeants were unlikely to frequent) with the same last name. He was from Philadelphia. Unaware of the 'black sheep' story, I told my grand-dad of the meeting. He gently chided me for not getting details on a likely kinsperson.

    When 'Grand-pa' converted to Christianity (he briefly studied for the priesthood before meeting a girl studying to be a nun), there followed a family rift of unknown (to me) duration.  They eloped and in time had two children, including my dad. After their divorce, he became a Presbyterian. . .a one-man ecumenical movement.

   Somewhere there are old family photos of him, his second wife and children visiting New York and presumably his kinspeople.  I have never known any of that extended family, including dad's now-presumed-deceased sister. 

   Through a long, convoluted process, most of dad's 'growing up' was in North Carolina with a foster family who were 'like blood'.
An unfortunate consequence of that has been limited contact with his half-sibs who primarily live (and lived) in Alabama.  They are warm, kind-hearted people whose company I have enjoyed but miles have seemed an obstacle.

   I have two younger brothers, children, grand-children, two great-grand-sons, several nieces and nephews and yet another generation from that.  We 'gather' every couple of years. Again, geography poses difficulties.  At some point, however, I suppose that it is inevitable that some of those down their branches will be unaware of the names or even existence of distant cousins. 

    Some might say, 'well, so what ?' ...it has always been such.  Every couple of years, my wife and I are guests of a local African-American family at their bi-annual 'Reunion'.  Folks come from as far away as Hawaii and greet each other with great energy and affection. In a world increasingly marked with isolation, loneliness  and estrangement, I find a sense of connectivity important in helping establish and sustain a large part of our identity.

                     With my two younger brothers at Thanksgiving
                          a few years ago. (I'm not the one with gray hair 
                              beard !)
                                     Satchel