Saturday, 5 July 2025

My Grandmother

 My Grandmother


Here’s a photo.

It’s of Rose

on board a ship in 1922

from Boston to London

It’s the SS President Harding.

She’s standing next to a ladder

to an upper deck.

With her left hand

she holds my father’s hand

he stands next to her

trying to hide his face from the camera

wearing long loose shorts

and a dark top.

On the ladder

sit baby Wallace

holding Rose’s right hand

and next to him on the ladder

their sister, Sylvia.

This is a journey

that is going to change their lives forever.

Rose will never go back to America.

Wallace has only a few weeks left to live.

My father will go to America

but it’ll be long after his father Morris has died.

Sylvia will be the pioneer

not early enough to see her father

but even so, she’s the one who’ll 

discover cousin Ted,

Morris’s nephew

and the family out there in Connecticut

and Massachusetts.

At the end of this transatlantic crossing

Rose will take the children

into a house Whitechapel

that is already full with her sisters

brother and their parents.

It will end up with 

11 or 12 of them in a two-up, two-down 

terrace house. 

Rose looks tired 

but whatever’s gone on between her and Morris

hasn’t broken her.

Four years later

she’ll be out on the streets demonstrating

against the ‘baby starvers’ as it says on the banner

supporting the General Strike

and she buys a little brass brooch 

which is a replica of a miner’s lamp

to support the miners

who hold out after the other unions go back to work.

Now that’s a thought:

a Jewish woman in London

buying a brooch for the miners.

She can’t really work much herself

because she’s had polio and one of her arms

is weak.

She’s going to have to rely on the family

to help her bring up the children

and some of them are going to resent her for it.

Wasn’t she the clever one

with her nose in a book

politics, politics, politics

can’t keep a husband though, 

now look at her!

She brings people to the house:

a Jamaican seafarer,

a grande dame of a woman called Beatrice

who my father goes to see in her flat

in Belsize Park.

Years later

it turns out that Beatrice

was Modigliani’s partner

and he painted pictures of her.

My father will be 

the first person in the family

to go to grammar school

the first person in the family to go to university

the first person in the family to be a teacher

the first person in the family to become a professor.

Rose is very proud of him

He calls her Ma

but it’s my father’s sister Sylvia who looks after her

when she gets a stroke,

two strokes actually. 

I remember her

coming round to our flat

and giving me a red shoe horn.

My mother, Connie loves her.

My father tells me that Connie

ran away from home

and went to live with Rose

when she was finally able to move out 

of the house in Whitechapel

and moved into a flat in White City.

People called her Rosie.

Rosie Rosen.

My mother called my father ‘Rosie’ too.

She’d shout for him, ‘Rosie!’

Or she’d say to us

‘Ask your father what he’s doing

and tell him to stop it’.

And of course

if Rose hadn’t got on that boat

and come back to London

I wouldn’t be here telling you any of this.

I wouldn’t exist.