| Fannie Landman didn’t live a long life. She was born in Cincinnati, Ohio on August 9, 1912 and died on October 6, 1919 at age 7 years, 1 month and 2.8 days – from complications of Scarlett Fever and Septicemia, according to her Certificate of Death. Her family, immigrants from Austria, were too poor to have her properly buried, so her remains were interred in a “pauper’s grave.” Her mom and dad rarely spoke of their deceased daughter to their surviving children – I surmise out of guilt of not being able to afford a cemetery plot and stone, not out of any lack of deep affection and love. In spite of repeated attempts over the decades to locate her burial site by determined family members and their descendants, Fannie’s final resting place was never discovered. Internet searches in later years revealed no trace either. Fannie Landman was my husband’s aunt, his mother’s sister – who died before my mother-in-law was born. All that remains of Fannie is one picture, a death certificate and a tiny gold ring with an even tinier green stone.  My mother-in-law, a few years before she died, bestowed me with a very meaningful keepsake – Fannie’s ring. When she gave it to me, she simply said, “Iris, I know you, of everyone in the family, will appreciate Fannie’s ring.” She was right. I was clearly moved beyond measure by the loss of this little girl and by the fact there was no marker where we could come and place a stone. In the last couple of months, finally determining that her burial site was simply not traceable, my husband decided that he would start the process of putting a marker of Fannie’s life and death at the foot of his grandparents’ grave so that Fannie would have a presence – so that future generations of the family would know that this little girl existed. It wasn’t enough for me. I had harbored the fantasy of naming a daughter “Fannie” thus perpetuating her memory. Being blessed with five sons, I didn’t get that opportunity. Years passed. The nest emptied. Health issues challenged us. We moved to a different state. Our kids got married and gave us grandchildren. Keeping Fannie’s memory alive still burned in my core – dormant but flickering. Getting my first shot at presenting my funky knitted creations at a crafts fair in Deland, Florida unleashed my imagination. I spent hours fine-tuning the wares I would be selling. And one night, I bolted upright in bed, startled awake by a flashing banner infused with neon lights streaking across my brain: Miss Fannie’s Formula for Fine LivingAha! My chance to imbue Fannie Landman’s short life span with a palpable presence: I would knit a series of dolls – each named Fannie. I would attach a small sign onto each one imparting some words of wisdom And each creation would be able to be hung-up on a wall.  I hope Fannie knows that another little girl – also born in Cincinnati, also born in the month of August, but many years later – still mourns her death, still sheds tears over the shortness of her life and is doing her best to hold her memory close. Keep Preserving Your Bloom, Iris Ruth Pastor |
