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This is my grandfather, Sharkey George, (lower right) playing a game of cards with his friends in Detroit in 1957.
Sharkey was born in Tel Kaif, Iraq, and was one of the first Chaldean immigrants in the US when he moved with his family to Detroit in 1922.
In 1950, with a meager $400 loan and a battered old milk truck, he, his brother and his father started a small Detroit dairy business called Melody Farms, which would soon became one of the largest family-run ice cream companies in the Midwest by the 1990s.
I am so proud of my grandfather and his real American story; he just turned 94 and still lives in the Detroit area with his wife of 67 years, Rita. ~shared by @gsgeorge

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“My Grandmother kept a box of old photos in her attic & we used to go up there on rainy days & sit on the floor in the dusty light & go through them & she would tell about witches & broken hearts & how we came from royal blood & it was all there in the pictures, she said & then we’d lose the light & we’d all go downstairs for dinner & in our secrets hearts we sat taller knowing once we had ruled the world.” ~ @brianandreas, Ancient Kings /// Meet Mamie Hytes Callahan Terry. Circa 1940. My grandmother. She was from an upper class family, she loved reading, spoke French, German and loved to bake. She had black hair and pale blue eyes.

My grandmother was a direct descendant of Hugh Capet, the first crown king of France. Louis XVI was her cousin. We are also cousins to most of the other royal families throughout Europe.

She was an amazing woman, although I never has a chance to meet her, except through photos and history like this. She died at age 50 from a brain aneurysm when my Mom was only 17 years old. ~shared by @roberto_2012x

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It takes too many years to appreciate our parents. At first, they are giants and superheroes; powerful and omniscient. Too quickly, they become ATMs and a ride; miserly and confining. You begin to wonder how such unenlightened, intolerant people survived when they were your age.

Then you grow up. Maybe get in trouble. Maybe get married. Have kids. And you need them. Finally, you go to them as peers, only to discover that they have somehow grown small and old. Until they speak. And then, you feel knee-high for a moment. They are giants and superheroes. You want to sit down and ask them to repeat everything they tried to tell you for the last 20 years.

But this time you listen. And maybe grab a pen.

These are my parents. Mom and Dad spent the late 1960’s and early 1970’s traveling together all over Europe before landing in Connecticut to have us kids. I’m really fortunate that Dad considered himself somewhat of a photographer. He was an expert at the tripod and self-timer. ~shared by @shawnmcarson

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My Mother’s birthday is today. This photo was taken in 1930 at Cedar Lake, Wisconsin. She was on summer break from Marquette University in Milwaukee. This was my Dad’s favorite photo of her. If Mom was still with us, she would be mortified by me placing this photo into the feed.

For those of a different generation, please note: the bathing cap, shoes and suits were made from wool at that time.

It was a charming time for her; she loved school. The Depression was going on, but she was at the lake and enjoying college. But she never forgot the soup and bread lines in Milwaukee.

She taught her children to look out for others; to never waste any food. The Depression did not mar her day-to-day existence like others at that time, due to her father and uncles owning a coal business. Coal was the chosen fuel, at the time, to run factories and heat homes.

Her favorite saying about living life was: “Do not put all your eggs in one basket.” Happy Birthday Mom. Thank you for all you taught Joe and me about how to live. Also…she loved cake. ~shared by @tejas42

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Baby, it’s cold outside!

Since everyone is saying we’re having “Arctic” temperatures this winter, I decided to share a photo of my Grandfather, George Tennant, who was actually in the Antarctic while on the Byrd Expedition from 1928-1930. He was the Chief Cook.

There’s even a photo of him holding a penguin, which was featured in National Geographic.

He had a mountain named after him, Tennant Peak, which was discovered in January 1929, and named by Byrd for my Grandfather. ~shared by @mooninthemeadow

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