A New Grandchild Brings Out My Better Angels
Our third grandchild was born this week. I’m already in love with this little baby girl and already heavily invested in her future.
Before I met the newest member of our family, I had drafted a post that connected a few recent, disparate public events, which, each in its own way, struck me as repulsive.
But it’s not in me at this moment to be negative or controversial. Not when I’m experiencing all that’s best about my life.
We now have three young grandchildren, all under three years old. When I think about who they are––American Jews living in New York City––I have fierce emotions.
Love, obviously,
determination to do whatever I can to help them (subject of course to the absolute veto power of their parents),
and patriotism for our shared country, our shared city, and our shared religious tradition.
So this is not a time for me to wag my finger or express revulsion.
This is the time, however, to record my son Andrew’s first “dad joke.” When someone praised the bonding instinct of his two-day-old daughter, Andrew said, “Well, she wasn't born yesterday.”
Tradition
My great-grandfather Samuel Rottenberg came to New York City in 1888, aged 16 and penniless. He came from a little Eastern European town similar to the one immortalized in Fiddler On The Roof. We’re still in New York, and our family–– Samuel Rottenberg’s family–– has multiplied and prospered, and we are still keeping faith with his traditions.
I wrote about Samuel Rottenberg and other ancestors in the post below.
My Family Story of Generational Wealth
My last post about the American Caste System addressed the generational persistence of an elite caste of wealth and privilege. Parents in the elite caste do their best to pass down to their children a continuity of caste status.
A time for joy! The revulsion will keep. “Born yesterday” has never been funnier.
Congratulations on your new grandchild. She will inherit quite a lineage and a wealth beyond the material.
Your musing about the name change your family struck a chord with me. The nostalgia for the name "Rottenberg" I find ironic. It is a place name, not a family name. I am sure it is only one of many family names your lineage acquired throughout its history. Your grandfather gave meaning to the name, not the other way around. I am reminded of the royal Windsor family dropping their Austro-German 'Saxe-Coburg-Gotha' heritage to appear more British. "Windsor" is the name of their castle, not the family.
A quick story... My wife, after two children with different surnames and two divorces, decided to reclaim her maiden name of Christiansen. All was well until her sister returned to Norway and asked some questions about their heritage. Her family's real name was "Bjornstad" (another place name) with the embellishments of slashed 'O's and umlaut 'A's not found on Ellis Island typewriters. The name Christiansen is equivalent to Smith in English, so much so that the Norwegian government will pay citizens to change it because it is too prevalent.
I am always amazed by how women abandon their surnames in marriage. I met a Korean couple, and it is common there for the wife to retain her family name in the marriage. Other cultures, like the English, seem to simply add a hyphen and muddle through. When I was stationed in Germany, my English last name, Hardman, was stubbornly converted to a Teutonic 'Hartmann' for the duration of my stay. "A rose by any other name smells of sauerkraut."