To re-launch my genealogy blog, I am re-posting this post from 2011 about Konstantin Leonidovich Larin (1909-1996), my great-grandfather.
The above photo was taken on his second birthday, exactly 104 years ago today. As he was born before the Soviet adoption of the Gregorian calendar, it meant that he acquired a different birth date the year he turned nine. I remember him telling me about the fact that both he and his sister Evgeniya were born on a holiday and how their mother jokingly chided them for making her miss out on the festivities.
Although he was my father’s grandfather, I called him “Grandpa”. It was probably too complicated for me to address him as “Great-Grandpa”, so as a result, my grandparents wound up being called by their first names, and my father was the Russian equivalent of “Daddy”. This still leads to much confusion when attempting to relate stories about my family to strangers. (“And that one time Grandpa… No, not grandpa Sasha, great-grandpa Konstantin…”)
Grandpa was my great-grandmother’s second husband, and had two sons from his first marriage. His older son was born the same day as my grandmother, which really confused me when I was young, because I thought they must have been twins by virtue of being born on the same day. Eventually, the fact that they looked very different, had different mothers and had different patronymics dawned upon me.
He used to tell me stories about his family in Odessa, where he had lived as a child, which sparked the beginnings of my obsession with genealogy. His father was one of ten brothers (there was also a sister), and there was an uncle after whom he was named who was said to have drowned in the Black Sea. He also recalled seeing the Tsar as a child. Unfortunately I do not recall the names that he mentioned, but I hope to one day rediscover them through my research.
I am hoping to learn more about his life and family history over time and solve some of the mysteries that remain to this day, such as the muddled family legend about the death of his father somehow involving the Odessa Opera House. (Ever since I’ve learned of it I’ve been joking that I’m related to the Phantom of the Opera.)
The last photo is how I remember him. He always enjoyed spending time with me – going for walks with me when I was little and teaching me how to play chess when I was older. Today, I’ll be keeping him in my thoughts and wish him a very happy 106th birthday.