I've been accused of being the family historian and am admittedly guilty. I know a lot about my mother's side of the family. As a child, I eagerly absorbed all that my relatives chose to reveal. As an adult, I excavated the things that they chose to remain buried. It was a colorful family, to say the least.
My maternal great-grandfather John Gordon (Janos Gurdonyi) was of royal blood, descendant of a Hungarian prince, who lost his inheritance when he married a commoner.
My great-uncle Frederick Lang was a murderer, who was executed for his crime in 1909 at age 24 - the last man to be hanged in New Jersey (I published an article about this).
My maternal grandmother Anna Gordon Knoll had eleven siblings - most of whom were flamboyant characters.
Her husband, my grandfather Charles Knoll, came from a dysfunctional family shrouded in secrets.
My maternal grandmother Anna Gordon Knoll (right) with her sister Lizabeth
My grandfather Charles Knoll, whose mother was Sofia Horvath
My grandfather's mother, Sofia Horvath, was an intriguing mystery. Despite extensive research, I could find no information about her whatsoever. No birth or death records, no marriage records, no grave site. I have no idea whether she was born in America or Hungary.
She is the mysterious ghost in our family - who haunts me solely because of her elusive existence.
She was described as being reserved, cool, distant. Everyone in the family agreed that she was beautiful - and it was said that my mother strongly resembled her.
Sophia Horvath was married several times and had numerous lovers. Each of her three sons had different fathers. I was surprised to discover that the identity of my grandfather's father is uncertain, and that Knoll might not even be his correct surname.
My mother said that she only saw her grandmother Sofia once in her entire life - when she was a child. Mom remembered her as being tall, slim, well-dressed, and elegant - a quiet, elusive woman who never smiled.
My great-grandmother Sofia Horvath died long before I was born. Her death was as mysterious as her life. She was discovered drowned in the Raritan River (New Jersey) - a possible murder, but most likely suicide.
A beautiful, mysterious, deeply troubled woman who seems to have left no trace....
The Raritan River and the Raritan River Railroad Bridge
When I was twenty years old, I wrote a poem about her.
SPRING THAW
In April they dragged the river
for her body
waiting patiently under the ice
for her body
waiting patiently under the ice
for months.
She yielded reluctantly,
still obstinate
after all these years.
On the edge
of the riverbank
yellow wildflowers nodded rumors
raising their heads to see.
I never knew her.
I only know the stories
told in sporadic whispers:
that she was beautiful
mysterious
aloof
had several husbands
many lovers
and never smiled.
The lonely secret
of her shadowed existence
finally unraveled
like a carelessly abandoned
mourning shroud.
When she emerged
from the tomb
of thawing ice,
some say her lips
bore warm traces
of an unintentional smile.
Jon V.
from Love Letters to Ghosts
