As Steven was searching through our family pictures to find a decent shot of himself for his Facebook page, he finally realized how difficult he makes it to take a decent shot of him. As soon as the camera goes up, he turns into a dud. He could be in mid-cycle of an animated conversation, and BOOM! He goes into his meloncholy, glum facial expression the second the camera clicks.
Case in point:
But then again… sometimes you are able to capture a rare glimpse of his TRUE personality:
Well, after a valient, but wretched attempt to grow his hair out, Mark has finally decided to go short again. We capture the process:
Hint: Lefty on left, Righty on right.
Well, as the school year draws to a close, and the heat wave begins to surge its way into Pasadena, the kids find ways to keep occupied. It was Father’s Day weekend when David found the stash of water balloons, and the battle ensued…
Steven gives up on the balloons and goes straight for the hose, while Mark uses David as a human shield:
Even Grandpa gets in on the action… Poor Annalia:
David get’s his revenge…
After some 40 years, 833 South Los Robles in Pasadena, CA will no longer be known as “Savta’s House”. Now that a family Matriarch is gone, so too is the sanctuary so many of our family members paid homage to throughout our lives. This architecturally depressed California Bungalow will become a rental property for some other family to call home.
The towering palms gracing the front yard like nature’s lighthouse calling to weary travellers to come in for latkes and coffee will no longer provide the sense of security they once did. The familiar smell of mothballs has now disappeared as 4 decades of collected fabric have been tossed to the trash. You can hear the miserly seamstress turning in her grave as her collection of buttons and thread crash into the large waste bin.
The decrepit tool shed that Zvi built with his own two hands (apparently without a hammer) is torn down easier than the Little Pig’s straw house. I remember the days when I would gather my army of G.I. Joe figures and vehicles to face battle with the likes of Darth Vader and Boba Fett behind the shed as it shaded me from the sun. I also remember pouring paint thinner on some of my Hot Wheels and lighting fire to them, nearly sending the shed to an explosive death.
No more Passover dinners. No more New Year’s celebrations. No more Latkes and cranberry juice. Savta’s death was a hard pill to swallow. Saying goodbye to her house was the second most painful day in my life.
