A Blog Post by
Publishing Intern Lily Fitzgerald
Publishing Intern Lily Fitzgerald’s maternal grandparents, George and Dolores Furtado, 1979
“They would have loved you.”
My mom and I were looking at photos of my maternal grandparents, George and Dolores Furtado, when she said these words to me, her voice soft and wistful. One snapshot was taken at my aunt’s wedding, showing my grandfather, tall and tanned in a grey suit, and my grandmother in a floor-length pink dress. My mom remarked on how fashionable my grandmother was and said, “She would have loved that you sew and would have taken you shopping for clothes all the time!” She also reminisced about my grandfather’s love of cooking and said he would have prepared my favorite foods, like lobster and shrimp. “I wish you’d had the chance to meet them,” my mother said.
“They would have loved you.”
Both of my maternal grandparents died before I was born, and my grandmother didn’t live long enough to meet any of her grandchildren. She passed away in 1987 at the age of 57 from pancreatic cancer, and my grandfather died in 1993 at the age of 63 from prostate cancer. Their children miss them every day, and, in a different way, those in my generation who never met them miss them, too. With no grandparents to spoil us grandchildren, or to tell stories of the past, my sister, cousins, and I grew up with a sense of loss. But no matter how empty the spot at the head of the family may have seemed when I was growing up, my mother and her siblings helped fill the void with memories and stories that brought my grandparents nearer to us all.
My grandfather was born George Furtado in 1929 and was raised on the island of São Miguel in the Azores. His family were rabbit farmers, and he came to the United States at fifteen after his father passed away. Settling in Somerville, Massachusetts, he began working as a barber and training to be a carpenter. My grandmother was born Dolores Cravo in 1930 and was raised one town over from Somerville in Cambridge. She was the daughter of two Portuguese immigrants and grew up surrounded by the Portuguese community there. She went to technical school for design and then worked with a fashion designer in Boston, where she would plan outfits and help models get ready for fashion shows.
George and Dolores met while my grandfather was playing soccer with his friends. My grandmother and her friends were walking in the area and decided to watch the match. Family lore has it that when their eyes met it was love at first sight. They started dating, and then they got married in 1952.
My grandmother planned to continue working for the designer after getting married. Then she got pregnant within the first year of marriage, and my grandfather was drafted to serve in the Korean War. Due to his absence, my grandmother had to stay home with their first son as she waited for the day her husband would return.
George Furtado during his service in the Korean War, c. 1953
My grandfather’s army service in Korea was anything but easy. He rose in the ranks to become a sergeant and was in charge of tanks, but my family never knew much about his experiences until after he died and an uncle told them the truth at his wake. They learned that his team was captured by the enemy and held in a prisoner-of-war camp. We believe he was the only member of his squad to survive, but he never talked about his time in Korea due to what would now be called PTSD. However, he was awarded many medals for his service and was proud that he served our country.
After the war, my grandfather returned home to his wife and child and bought a three-family home in Somerville. While he worked, my grandmother stayed home with their growing family, which would eventually include six children. They sometimes struggled with money, but they always managed to scrape by, providing their children with a safe and happy life. They worked hard and found comfort and hope in their Catholic faith.
“…memories can change the way we see the world and help us understand those around us and those who came before us.”
Beyond their religion, my grandparents also found joy in the little things in life. My grandfather loved to prepare food, and especially seafood. He went fishing in Gloucester, he ate tinned sardines, and he tried to entice his children to eat escargot and clams. One of his favorite meals was a Christmas Eve dish called the Seven Fishes, which he prepared with shrimp, lobsters, crabs, tuna, clams, quahogs, and octopus. He also grew grapes in the backyard to make his own wine in the basement. Apparently, it was sometimes a bit too strong, and after sharing it with friends, they would stagger home. For her part, although my grandmother no longer worked in design after getting married, she never gave up her love of clothes and fashion. She always made sure that her children were dressed well and looked good, spending time sewing and shopping. Then, after her children grew up, she got a job as a nurse’s aide at Mount Auburn Hospital. There she worked in the labor and delivery unit, finding joy in caring for newborn babies and their mothers.
Although they left this world much too soon, my grandparents live on in family stories, proving that memories can change the way we see the world and help us understand those around us and those who came before us. The vivid memories my mom, aunts, and uncles have shared give me a clear picture of the loving, creative, and hardworking people their parents were. So now when I recall my mother saying, “I wish you’d had a chance to meet them,” I can say with thanks that in some ways, I feel as though I have.
Lily Fitzgerald is publishing intern for Modern Memoirs, Inc.