In this post: Selecting a favorite family photograph becomes easier when you focus on images whose complete stories you can tell. This 1945 photograph of my grandmother Eva Marcisak captures more than a casual moment at a New York City tavern. It documents a wartime goodbye, a brother’s blessing, and a love that would endure for decades. The combination of the image, handwritten inscriptions, and contemporary letters makes this photograph resonate across generations.
Choosing a favorite family photograph feels impossible. I received a box of photos from my uncle last October. The box contained about 130 photos – what a treasure!! Wedding portraits. Birthday celebrations. Formal studio shots. Candid moments. Many from the 1920s and 1930s show faces I have not yet identified. How do you pick one favorite from a collection that documents an entire family’s history?
You pick the one whose story you know.
This is my grandmother Eva (Evelyn) Marcisak on June 18, 1945, sitting at a table in the Exchange Tavern Restaurant and Bar at 434 Seventh Avenue in New York City. She is 34 years old. She is smiling. A glass of scotch and water sits before her.
I love this photograph because I knew this woman. She was my grandmother. I heard her voice. I saw her smile in person. When I look at this image, I see my mother’s face in hers. I see my own face reflected across eight decades. That recognition creates a bridge between past and present that formal portraits cannot match.
The Story Behind the Smile
Eva had just said goodbye to George Dubinsky at the train station. He was returning to Fort Custer in Michigan, where he served with the Convalescent Hospital, Company D, 5th Battalion, 1st Regiment at the Percy Jones Hospital Center. In three months, on September 30, 1945, they would marry.
After the goodbye, Eva returned to the Exchange Tavern with her brother Steve. Someone took this souvenir photograph. The restaurant packaged it in a paper envelope, and Steve wrote on the back: “My Georgie! This was taken just after we left you (Scotch + water – no ice). My picture was lousy (too much light). Good Luck Buddy. Steve”
Steve’s handwritten note adds layers to this image. He had been liberated from a POW camp in April 1945 and had only been home for weeks. This was likely the first time he met George face to face. His affectionate “Good Luck Buddy” suggests he approved of his sister’s choice.
Eva inscribed “Love Evelyn” on the front of the photograph and mailed it to George at Fort Custer. This casual moment at the Exchange Tavern became a keepsake he could hold while they were apart. She sent him her smile, her brother’s blessing, and proof that she was thinking of him.
That approval mattered. Steve and Eva were only two years apart in age. They grew up together in a Slovak immigrant household. His presence at the Exchange Tavern that evening was support, not just companionship.
I have written extensively about Steve’s POW experience (See: “Beyond the Barbed Wire: What Stephen Marcisak’s POW Journal Reveals About Survival” and “Letters Home: Voices From the Edge of War“), George’s military service (See: “The Healing Army: My Grandfather’s Service at America’s Largest WWII Hospital“), and George’s letters to Eva (See: “The Power of Letters in Genealogy“). Knowing those stories makes this casual photograph resonate differently than it might otherwise. This is not just a woman at a restaurant. This is a sister with her brother, both living through the final months of a war that shaped their entire generation.
Why This Photograph Today
I could have chosen a wedding portrait. The box contains several. I could have featured one of the formal family photographs where everyone dressed in their best clothes and posed for the camera. Those images have their own value.
But this photograph captures something those formal portraits do not. Eva looks genuinely happy. Relaxed. Her smile is real. She wore a nice dress to bring her fiancé to the train station, and she carries that same care in her appearance here. But there is nothing stiff about this moment. No photographer directing poses. Just Eva, sitting with her brother, having a drink after an emotional goodbye.
Two days later, George wrote her a letter from Fort Custer. “My Dearest Love,” it begins. Nine pages follow, filled with longing and devotion. He describes his journey back to camp. He talks about missing her. He declares that she is “Tops” in his book. That letter sits in my possession now, tangible proof that these two people built something lasting.
What I See When I Look
I return to this photograph often. Each time, different details stand out. The way Eva’s hair is styled. The label on the glass identifying it as scotch and water. Steve’s casual handwriting on the back. The Exchange Tavern’s souvenir envelope, carefully preserved for 80 years.
But mostly I see my grandmother’s face. Not as an elderly woman, which is how I knew her. Not as a bride in her wedding photographs. But as a 34-year-old woman living through a pivotal moment. Her smile tells me she knew what she was building. She chose George. Her brother blessed that choice. In three months, they would marry.
That smile connects me to her in ways that formal portraits cannot. I see my mother in that smile. I see traces of my own face. Family resemblance is not just about physical features. It is about recognizing something essential that carries forward through generations.
The Photograph I’m Sharing Today
The #52Ancestors prompt for Week 6 asks for a favorite family photograph. Asking a genealogist to pick a favorite photo is like asking a parent to pick a favorite child. The box from my uncle contained 130 images, including my great-uncle Paul’s Marine photo book. Countless photographs from the Marcisak side of the family still need scanning and identification.
So I am not claiming this is my absolute, forever, only favorite family photograph. I am saying this is the photograph I choose to feature today. I chose it because I know its story. I knew these people. I can tell you who Eva was, who Steve was, who George was. I can place this moment in time with confidence. Many photographs in my collection await identification and research. This one needs neither.
I chose it because my grandmother is smiling, and I love her smile.
I chose it because I see my mother and myself reflected in her face.
I chose it because her brother was there, supporting her through a difficult goodbye and welcoming the man who would become her husband.
I chose it because this casual moment at a New York City tavern tells me more about who these people were than any formal portrait ever could.
This is the photograph I am featuring today. Tomorrow, I might choose a different one. That is the nature of family photographs. Each one matters. Each one tells a different story. But today, this is the one I want to share.
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