As I was packing to move across the country recently, one of my daughters – now grown and a mother herself, sat down next to me as I was going through photos.   A short time later my granddaughter joined us.  She pointed to the picture of her great, great, great grandmother, Kunigundia, asking “who is that lady?  She looks sad.”  My daughter laughed and told her how back then people had to hold still for a long time when having a picture taken.  They weren’t allowed to move or smile.  She then added, quite to my surprise, “She came on a boat across the ocean from Germany when she was just 15 years old.  She was just married and very brave.  She and her husband, Frederich built a house in the Black River Township of Ohio next to where the Indians would hunt.”  My granddaughter held the picture for a few moments as the story settled in.  I could feel the tears welling up as I looked at them both.  My daughter glanced up just then, smiled and said “I remember her potato pancakes.  You should make those for her when we get settled.  I will tell the story and you and she can cook.”    Somewhere in heaven I could hear my Grammie humming her little baking song, the corners of mouth lifting in a knowing smile.

Kate Ross
owner of
Heritage Scrap