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Pictures that Tell a Story: In Remembrance

Zosia at home in New York in the late-1930s or early 1940s

This picture of my grandmother, Zosia Eaton, was taken in New York when she couldn’t have been more than twenty. She had yet to meet my grandfather or to officially change her name to Sandra, which she chose because it sounded more American.  She detested anything that betrayed her Polish roots, and was ceaselessly teased as a child over her given name.

I knew her far too briefly, and was just a young child when she died on January 28 more than two decades ago at the age of sixty.

Although she was already in her 50s when I knew her, she had retained her striking beauty and old-school Hollywood glamour. The same glamour that had heads turning and party guests whispering anytime she ventured out in New York with my grandfather: “Which movies? Is she? Really?” As a child I was filled with pride and bemusement at the thought  of my Nana being mistaken for a film star.

She had worked at New York Newsday for awhile, and had a talent for writing and painting. She also loved traveling, and often felt confined by my homebody grandfather who didn’t share her passion. Even now, all these years later, I think of her anytime I first set foot in a new country or city that she never made it to.

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