The Anniversary in the Kodachrome Slides

Somewhere around 1970, a photographer captured a celebration at Northwood Villa in Erie, Michigan, just across the state line from Toledo.

Somewhere around 1970, a photographer captured a celebration at Northwood Villa in Erie, Michigan, just across the…

More than half a century later, those Kodachrome slides have resurfaced, bringing with them a room full of familiar faces, some questionable fashion choices, and a mystery:

**What anniversary were we celebrating?**

We know the occasion honored our maternal grandparents, Harry and Frieda Levine. Relatives traveled from Cleveland to attend, and we can identify nearly everyone in the pictures.

But the photographs came without captions, and some of the details have been lost along the way.

## The Venue and the Memories

For those who grew up around Toledo, Northwood Villa was more than a restaurant. It was a destination for special occasions.

We privately referred to our favorite banquet spot as the “Levine Room.” Many of our family's most important celebrations took place there, including both Harlan's Bar Mitzvah and mine.

By the time we reached our teenage years, we were beginning to appreciate that the Villa had a history extending far beyond weddings, anniversaries, and family dinners.

There were stories about organized crime, Toledo's underworld, and the characters associated with what was sometimes called *Unholy Toledo*.

I fondly remember Harlan and me exploring the building and discovering what appeared to be secret passages.

Thankfully, we always managed to find our way back to the table.

And anyone who remembers the Villa probably remembers those famous pecan rolls!

## Dressed for the Occasion

This gathering appears to have been a wedding anniversary celebration for Grandpa Harry, better known as Buddy, and Grandma Frieda.

Without calling Aunt Barb, I remain clueless about the exact details!

Judging by the pictures, I was about five or six years old, placing the event around 1969 or 1970, possibly 1971. Harlan, nearly two years older, would have been seven or eight.

Grandma Frieda wore a coral dress adorned with a floral corsage. Harlan would have been kvelling over the details.

Grandpa Buddy was dressed in a dark suit with an orange tie, a white boutonniere, and his familiar cane — or, as we called it in our family, the Gunda (Gooonduh).

It wasn't a real word, but all of us cousins knew exactly what it meant.

Their three daughters were present: Marcia, the eldest; Barbara, the middle daughter; and our mother, Zandra, the youngest.

Husbands, children, cousins, aunts, and uncles filled out the gathering. Grandpa's older brother Abe was there, along with Grandma's sister Libby and relatives who had made the trip.

And then there were Harlan and Hal, dressed in our best, although I suspect we were far more interested in dessert than the historical significance of the occasion.

## The Eye of a Haberdasher

Looking at these photographs today, it's remarkable to see so many branches of the family together in one place, preserved in color slides.

This is where I really miss having my big brother around.

Harlan was the haberdasher in our family. He understood fabrics, tailoring, construction, and how clothing was supposed to fit.

He could look at a suit and notice details the rest of us wouldn't recognize even if somebody pointed them out.

Take Dad, for example.

Marvin Yaffe was wearing one of his bespoke suits. Harlan would have had plenty to say about the cut, the material, the lapels, and the pocket square.

Then there's Mom.

Zandra was wearing a bright yellow dress, with her hair styled high and perfectly in place.

Looking at her, I guarantee Har would have said she looked like Elizabeth Montgomery playing Samantha on *Bewitched*.

He'd have examined the fabric, explained how the dress was constructed, and offered a firm opinion on its fit.

I can easily picture the two of us sitting together today, going through these slides, identifying relatives, and comparing what we remember.

There's another story hidden in these pictures, involving two people who could never have been photographed with us.

In our family's Ashkenazi Jewish tradition, children are named to honor relatives who have passed away, rather than becoming Juniors or Thirds.

Neither of us ever met the men whose names we carried.

Grandma Frieda and her sister Libby had a brother named Hyman Ginsberg. He died before I was born, and I was named in his memory.

Harlan's namesake was our paternal grandfather, Harry Yaffe.

As longtime readers may remember from last week's story, our parents married on February 6, 1960, and Dad's father passed away during their honeymoon.

When Harlan arrived in late April 1962, he was named in Grandpa Harry's memory.

There are no pictures of me with Hyman Ginsberg, and none of Harlan with Harry Yaffe.

Yet here we were, two little boys standing beside our other Grandpa Harry — Buddy Levine — and Grandma Frieda.

**The people who came before us were represented through our names. The generations that followed were standing right there in front of the lens.**

## Present and Accounted For

I love the photograph that shows Grandma Frieda's sister Libby appearing to supervise Grandpa Buddy as he approaches the cake.

Was she giving instructions? Straightening something on his jacket? Making sure the knife went in the right direction?

We can only guess.

Another captures Grandma Frieda sampling a bit of frosting while Grandpa Buddy stands beside her, smiling.

There are pictures of the three Levine sisters, their husbands, the grandchildren, and extended family.

For that evening, everyone was dressed up, gathered around the people they loved, and enjoying a special occasion.

Nobody was thinking about preserving history.

Fortunately, somebody brought a camera.

## From One Generation to the Next

This week's Torah portion, Lech-Lecha — often translated as “Go forth” — begins with Abraham leaving his homeland and setting out toward an uncertain future.

It's a story about journeys, family, and the generations that follow.

Our relatives made their own journeys, including passage through Ellis Island and the move from New York to Toledo. They raised children, established new roots, and gathered for the occasions that brought everyone together.

These Kodachrome moments give us another opportunity to remember the people who helped shape our lives.

And looking through them, I can't help thinking how much Harlan would have enjoyed identifying the faces, examining the fashions, and filling in the blanks.

He loved his family.

And he had a way of noticing things the rest of us overlooked.

I wish he were here to help narrate these pictures.

But until then, we'll keep sharing what we know and asking the questions we never thought to ask.

**If anyone recognizes this anniversary celebration or remembers the exact year, please let us know!**

There are still a few captions missing.

And perhaps a few more stories waiting to be told.

Shabbat Shalom.

Peace, Love and Equality for All!

#HarlansLegacy #ShabbatShalom #NorthwoodVilla #FamilyLegacy #LechLecha