Meet the Kerezmans. Frederick and Hjordis had three sons, named Peter, Michael and George. Michael and his wife had a son and daughter, named Karel and Christine. Karel and his wife also had a son and daughter, named Alexander and Erica.
That’s my family tree, for the most part, at least on that side of things.
Fred passed away when I was quite young, I believe it was back in ’79 or ’80. Hjordis died on “nine-eleven”, albeit in Texas instead of New York.
And my uncle Pete contacted us yesterday to let us know that his brother George is no more.
Exactly how and exactly when is still unknown. Apparently Pete and George had been in steady contact for quite some time, and Pete became worried when emails and phone calls stopped coming.
Pete will be travelling to New York soon to deal with personal effects and various legal matters. Hopefully he’ll also learn more about what happened.
George was a musician, and the last of our branch of the family to remain in New York City. You might like to poke around the website of his band, Crazy Mary.
I surprised my father last night by telling him about my vivid recollection of a jam session in our New York apartment when I was very, very young. I remember the long hallway from the front door leading directly to the big room with the double doors past which Dad and his brothers and friends would gather to play. (My room, by the way, was a hard right U-turn at the end of that hallway. I had a record player, a small bed and toys ankle-deep at all times.)
I remember being told more than once when I was younger that I looked a lot like my father but even more like Uncle George.
It’s a shame I don’t remember the man better. Goodbye, Uncle George. Be well, wherever you are.