Losing a loved one is never an easy thing. Just this past week I attended the funeral of a long-time family friend and it was a sad and unexpected situation. I tend to think that our ancestors embraced their mortality better than we do. These days, unless there is a tragic accident, we seem to be of the collective mind that we are made of teflon and there is always a treatment. We are lucky to be living in an enlightened time with a plethora of medical knowledge, treatments and medications. Many of these things were either unknown or not practiced even 50 years ago!
But the death of a child is and was a terrible thing. Today we tend to operate under the assumption that babies just don’t die….But infant mortality was an issue of which our ancestors were painfully aware. As of 2014, the infant mortality rate of children born alive (in the US) and dying before their first birthday is 6 out of every 1,000. In 1965, that number was 24.7 and in 1920 it was 86. Eighty-six! But there were no vaccinations or antibiotics and many “basic” ideals of pre and postnatal care were either poorly followed, unknown or just not done. Carrying a baby to term and delivering it alive was only half the battle.
On May 23rd, 1922 my grandmother gave birth to Robert Don Albert. He was delivered by my great-grandmother and midwife, Addie Smith in Omaha, Nebraska. This was the second boy born to Otto and Lena Albert; William Marion had been born in San Antonio, Texas in 1917.
By all accounts, Robert was a joyful and sweet baby that everyone loved. It would seem that he was the light of my grandmother’s life. Robert was that one person that connected with my grandmother in a way that no one else would ever be able to do. Robert was named after Otto’s father, William Robert Albert and Lena’s brother Donald Addis Smith. For more information about Don read here: A Christmas Surprise.
Otto holds baby Robert, Marion (Dick) Smith holds young Marion, Lena and Addie Smith Otto, Robert and Marion Albert with Dick Smith
I don’t know as much about Robert as I would like. He was born before my father and while my Uncle Marion certainly did remember Robert, he really didn’t share much. But I did have the opportunity to read some letters that my grandmother had written and they were very revealing in how much Robert meant to her.
What a sweet face! At this particular time, my grandfather was working as a mechanic for Ford at a specialty auto garage and while they weren’t well off by any means, they did have the disposable income to purchase studio photos of baby Robert. I would guess that this was taken in early 1923.
Most of the photos that I have of Marion, the older brother, are from this time period and taken with Robert. Marion was the first-born and already 5 when Robert came on the scene but either the marriage, the attitude or the finances were different by 1922. I actually possess quite a grouping of photos of Robert and this simply wasn’t the case with Marion.
Marion and Robert photographed on the porch circa 1923.
Robert continued to grow and flourish becoming a lovely little boy. He learned to walk and his mother continued to photograph him on a regular basis.
The impish look on his face is simply priceless! But fate was not kind to this darling boy or to my grandparents. In a time before vaccinations, dear little Robert contracted whooping-cough. The vaccine wasn’t discovered and put on the market until the 1940’s at which time nearly 200,000 children contracted pertussis or whooping-cough and nearly 9,000 per year died. My uncle was one of them. It makes me sad to think of what could have been……
Robert died on April 7th, 1924; just short of his second birthday. My grandmother’s light was extinguished. While she went on to have three more children, I don’t think that she was ever quite the same. His death affected her deeply and I can rarely remember her smiling.
I discovered at least a dozen photos of Robert’s grave, adorned with flowers. I would assume that my grandmother Lena took these photos, but I can’t be sure. I do know that from the letters she wrote after his death, she truly struggled to be a wife, a mother and even a participant in day-to-day life.
Seven years later, Ivan Jerome, stillborn; would be laid to rest next to little Robert. When my father passed away, his ashes were interred on top of Robert’s casket and another brother, Dave, is buried close by. Marion, the eldest, out lived them all and passed away in 2012. His ashes were scattered over the Rocky Mountains.
Many years ago my grandmother gave my mom and dad some miscellaneous things. While they were always present in the house as I grew up, I never realized their importance or their story until years later. They have now been passed to me and I cherish them, despite the fact that I never knew Robert and I still know so little about him.
The first item is a cast iron toy car that belonged to Robert. It is a two piece toy about 8″ long with a working steering wheel and rolling wheels.
The second is a leather button top shoe.
I have no idea who Lena gave the other shoe to, but it amazes me how great this little leather shoe still looks after nearly 100 years. For many years I blew this off and considered it an antique toy, not realizing that it belonged to a little boy who was my uncle. If you look at the photo of Robert standing in the yard…..he is wearing these shoes.
