This lady is my great aunt with the wonderful name Emma. She was one of the few members of my mother's family, who left the small village where she grew up, and had her own little grocery store in Frankfurt. In fact she owned that type of store, that also goes by the expression "aunt Emma store"(German converted into English)! I still own some vintage linen dishtowels with her hand embroidered monogram. ES.
She had one son, whom she raised without her husband (who had died in the war) and whom she adored to no ends. She was a hard working woman and certainly deserved nothing but the best, however, her son ended up as the black sheep of the family (ah, I love that expression. Feel it melt on your tongue. Black. Sheep. Of the family...!)
He was married three times, his last wife being the daughter of a bank director, which probably finally provided him with the cash he needed for a "60s-yuppie" life style. He once lured my father into giving him an antique piece of furniture, without ever giving him the promised vintage chair in return. I'm assuming he got the bank director's daughter with a similar maneuver.
I'd say it is not surprising that he died the way he lived - young, in his early 40s in a tragic car accident, a head on collision, fatal miscalculation of what was meant to be a quick passing of another car. Drunk? Who knows.
Can't you tell somehow that he was kind of a bad boy?!
His name was Erich. I liked him.