The Postcard

A postcard fell out of a pile of old pictures. It was dated October 19, 1941 and was addressed to my Grandfather’s family. It started, “Dear Cousins”.


The card was to let them know where the senders and their son were living. It let them know that they hadn’t heard from them in a long time, but that the family were in Duluth, MN. It wished them a Happy New Year.

My curiosity was aroused, so I called my Aunt Hilda, then in her 80’s, to find out who these people were. She remembered that when she was in High School, some family came to Baltimore from Western Michigan looking for work (during the Depression) and stayed with them for a while. She thinks they never found work and returned.

I used the Internet and tried the name (through phone number search) and there were two in Minnesota, both in Minneapolis. The first was not home but I spoke to his wife, who said the second number was an estranged stepmother, and not to bother. She said to call her husband at work, but that they just recently found out they were related to Greenblatt’s. However, this was the wrong family, I needed them related to my mother’s family.

The husband called me back, and while not knowing the postcard writer, spoke with his aunt and she was his niece. I called the Aunt, she called me back. Her father was the writer’s brother. The family had one son. Alas, the son had died in 1997. The Aunt was a friend of her cousin off and on in his life. He had been married and divorced, had 3 or 4 children, but she knew of no one around. His one daughter lived in Las Vegas, but when she had looked for her, she had vanished.

So does this tale. It ends with little info but a few interesting conversations. The aunt also invited me over if I get to Minneapolis.