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As they say, style is something you’re born with!

My sister, my cousins and me on vacation in the early 1980s in Koblevo, a Ukranian resort on the Black Sea, not too far from Odessa. My family loved going on vacation there.

My aunt Irina gave this photo a nickname many years ago: “Julia the Foreigner,” referring to the aviator glasses I was wearing. Aviators were a novelty back then, long before I left Ukraine.

Those fab, fashion-forward sunglasses belonged to my father. I was just sporting them for this family photo. ~shared by @juliarozentalphotography

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My grandfather was a captain in the Polish army, right before the Nazis invaded.

He spent five years in a concentration camp until liberation by the US Army.

He met my grandma at a liberated camp in Germany. They married, took a free ride on a US Navy vessel to Boston, then a train to Chicago with a few dollars in their pocket to start a new life.

Whenever I’m about to complain, I think of their story and what they went through. And I shut up quick. ~shared by @35_gauge

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This is the earliest surviving photo of my Dad as a young man.

The photo was taken in a studio in Muktsar, Punjab when he was 16 or 17. It was 1956 or thereabouts.

I often wonder what this young man who had never been out of Punjab, let alone India, would have thought if someone told him what his future had in store? A life in London, and an English wife and children to boot!

Yet this young man left India and went on to become a lecturer in law, a leading Marxist theoretician, and the founding Chairman of the Communist Party of Great Britain (Marxist-Leninist). His early years witnessing the bloody end to the British occupation of India had a deep impact on his understanding of imperialism’s divide-and-rule policy. ~shared by @joeteebee

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My husband’s christening day, 1966 with his parents and both sets of grandparents.

I love the frocks, fabrics, hats and glasses! My mother says that everyone wore hats. My mother-in-law had some beauties.

My sister and I remember how our Mum used to put her step-ins and stockings on whenever we went to town.

Everyone dressed beautifully back then. But it was summer in Sydney, Australia, so those hats, stockings and suits must have been stiflingly hot! ~shared by @janemadge

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These are my 91-year-old Grandmother’s five older brothers with their mother around 1920. They are all gone now.

Over the years, My Grandmother has told me many stories about her brothers and their kindnesses to her as their baby sister, their adventures and misadventures. It is wonderful to hear how important they all were to her and to learn lessons from their lives.

I find it amazing to be able to gaze at a photograph and see their faces as little boys, imagining all I know about their futures.

Their father was a sea captain and was away from home most of the time. Five boys in a row was a handful. One of the often-repeated stories about them involves my Great-Grandmother employing a cast iron frying pan to break up fights in the kitchen.

I have just two of my own sons, and thanks to the many tales told by my Grandmother, I often imagine how it would be with a gaggle like this one! ~shared by @rebleckamac

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Your story started before you.

In this photo, there’s an angelic little girl seated on a woman’s lap. That little girl is my grandmother Louise.

She was the most loving woman I have ever met. She was my safe haven as a child; she lived on a farm and it was a magical place.

She taught me about gardening, the real way, the old way. She taught me Breton, a Gaelic dialect spoken in Brittany, France.

She taught me about life and humility. She taught me to sit in silence and listen to the world around me. She made the best crêpes in the world.

Best of all, she taught me about love – true, authentic love.

This beautiful little girl in an old photograph grew up to be someone’s Saint.

My Saint. ~ shared by @hoopgirlatheart

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Never forget that the quietest moments often sing stories of resounding love. Photos help us hear those tunes.

One year ago yesterday my Grandfather passed away suddenly.

I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed the way this man always pulled me aside and said, “Honey, I’ll tell you something; you are quite a beautiful young lady.” I found this photo among some postcards to my Grandma from his service in WWII.

On the back it simply says, “me, writing you a postcard from Switzerland.” ~shared by @growsweetjoy

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