While I refuse to muck around in Mom's falling-apart album again right now, I think this↓ photo was dated 1920. If so, my mother was only 6 and my grandfather was 39. He is the one with the big X on his chest. There have been times when I have photoshopped mom's markings away, but I am starting to find them endearing.
It was taken in New York on a building site where my grandfather was working as a bricklayer. My grandfather worked in NYC for 7 years before retuning to Montreal. I am not sure how many of those 7 years the whole family lived there, but I know that it was for some of them.
While I am tempted to say, "Just think, I could have been an American," of course I wouldn't have been because my parents wouldn't have met, and there would not have been a Me. Not that I would have missed myself had I not existed, just as I will not miss myself when I cease to exist.
Here is another photo that Mom has scribbled on, taken 20 years later in 1940. From left to right: my two grandmothers (paternal and maternal), Uncle Charlie, and Mom.
What a family of munchkins, with my mother looking the tallest at the grand height of 5'1". I think my paternal grandmother (far left) was somewhat taller until polio left her with a dowagers hump. At least, I think it was polio. I never heard her complain though, and I think I would remember for she lived the longest of my grandparents — until I was ~17.
I never knew my maternal grandmother, or at least I don't remember knowing her because she died when I was 2. I note that she was wearing a coat above and another below, both photos looking like they were taken in warm weather and she not looking warm at all.
So that's three-quarters of my gene pool. Only my dad and his dad are missing. They were also short. I am the 6' and almost 2" exception. The bricklayer grandfather was also tallish, I think about 5'10".