SEEING A MEME AND HEARING MY DECEASED RELATIVES SPEAK

I can hear Cousin Fannie’s voice as she imparted her most fervent wish. Then, her sentiments popped up in a meme on Facebook, so many years after her demise (May 25, 1915—May 18, 2009).

I wish that I could help her rest in peace by telling her that her sons are in contact all these years later, and that I’m in touch with not only both of them, but also with their friendly childhood neighbor, Leah. Our Catskill Mountain summers at Mountain View bungalows in Livingston Manor, owned and operated by Cousin Dora and her daughter Fannie, allow Leah and me to share the happiest of memories.

Fannie’s mother, known to us as Aunt Dora, was my mother’s first cousin, but she was much older than my mother. Dora’s eldest of three children, her daughter Fannie, was two months younger than my mother.

We called Fannie and my mother “the bookends” for their similar petite stance. The picture of the two cousins sitting together on the porch of the main house on one of those glorious Catskill summer days, evokes the fondest of my childhood memories.

My mother and Fannie, each a force of nature, lived into their 90s. There were ups and downs throughout the years, but Fannie was resolute in blaming her temper for causing rifts in her relationship with loved ones throughout her life.

I gained so much from our closeness with Cousin Fannie both during my childhood, minus a few years due to family discourse, and later in my adulthood. She approached life with an eagerness to see the world and share her journey. See 50 Years, 50 States, dated June 24, 2025, My Happy Place dated July 4, 2018, Friendly Ghosts of the Catskills Past, dated September 28, 2021, Lingering Scents, dated December 21, 2021, and other blog posts at sharonmarkcohen.com, with talk of the Catskills, brought to us by Cousins Dora and Fannie.

As I write about dear Cousin Fannie, I’m smiling while “hearing” her characteristic laugh as she told my mother and her younger sister, my Aunt Beattie, that the doctor told her to be careful after she was widowed for two years. Upon marrying Charlie when she was in her fifties, the doctor cautioned her that she could still get pregnant two years post-menopause.

I think about Fannie’s twinkle in her eyes and recall her failed eye surgery. Although she was left blind in one eye, that did not deter her zest for living. She looked at the bright side, no pun intended…I remember, for example, her telling me how lucky she was that she never suffered from heartburn. These stories that stuck with me help to keep Fannie’s memory alive as I picture her thick, cropped gray hair turning a beautiful shade of white.

Rest in peace Cousin Fannie. You worked hard, played hard, and overcame bumps along the road. You brought joy and happiness to many, including me, who hold you close at heart.