Lost and Found

While working up some scans from some old negatives I came across an image of a young woman.

A cousin of mine, it was taken at a family gathering at my Grandparent’s farm in 1969. She was the daughter of my mother’s oldest brother but I couldn’t, for the life of me, remember her name. My connection with that branch of my relations was never very strong, even though they lived in the same city I did when I was growing up. I knew the names of her older siblings—my sister was close to the eldest daughter—but, for some reason, this person never really made much of a impression on me. Part of that was my own cluelessness. I was only 18 when I took this picture and she was three years older, a bigger gulf between our ages then than it seems to be now. She was nice and must have felt comfortable enough to let a gangly teen take her picture. Her parents liked to take an occasional drink (or three, or more) and I sensed that there was a rift between her father and my mother that may have been based in childhood.

I did a Google search for her parents and sister, plus the city they lived in, and “obit.” Her obituary came right up. She had lived a good life: a professional woman and a beloved step-mother and grandmother. She died at 73 during the height of the Covid pandemic.

Rest in peace Joanie, I’m sorry I missed knowing you…