Emilio de Jauregui, left, and Stella de Jauregui, back, and their children Emilio Ricardo , right, and little Stella, center. Thought to be a beach in San Sebastian
Having traced a tenuous link between the brightly colored ticket stub and the little family photographed on the beach, I feel a sense of satisfaction. So, this is where you come from, I think to the ticket. These are the hands that accepted you from the ticket clerk, sliding you into a jacket pocket or, perhaps, into a small clutch-style handbag. I focus on the little girl in front, my great aunt, Auntie Stella, imagining her holding out her hand for the ticket, turning it over and over before resting it (with the epic struggle between bull and steed facing out) on the top of a bureau in their temporary San Sebastian residence. Yet, as I stare at the photograph, it occurs to me that these faces, despite being directly related to me, are as unfamiliar as strangers. Indeed, as I inspect the various photos my mother has sent me, I sometimes have trouble picking out who is who. With not a little chagrin, I reflect that while I can spot a random celebrity in a crowd photo, I cannot spot my own relatives. I stare harder at the beach photograph, hoping to imprint their features in my memory. I try to connect the scene with what I have been able to discover about their lives. Who are you? What are you like?
I focus particularly on my great grandfather, the elder Emilio. In the photo, he stands just apart from his family, his head turned to his left so that he can adjust his tie. There is something in his posture that strikes me as at once as being both debonair and uncomfortable. In his handsome double breasted suit, he looks like he is ready to sit down for a dinner party not a day at the beach. When I mention this detail to my mother, she passes on an anecdote she heard from Auntie Stella. While everybody changed into their bathing outfits to jump into the surf, Emilio would sit on the beach under an umbrella, fully clothed. Auntie Stella could not recall a time when her father even took off his shoes. Glancing again at his face, pulled into a slight grimace due to his effort with the tie, I wonder what his smile looks like and how often he uses it. I look through the other photos. Hmm, not even a ghost of a smile. Why so serious? Perhaps, it has something to do with his obligation to uphold the de Jauregui reputation. Or, perhaps it has something to do with being the second son. According to my Uncle Phil, the de Jaureguis are connected through marriage and relations to some of Latin America’s most influential families at the time, with ties that crisscross not only Central America but also the United States and Europe. Although this influence brings status and power, it also brings responsibility. As the youngest of four, Emilio is the baby of the family. His elder brother (technically, stepbrother), John, would mostly likely be expected to take point, taking over as head of the family affairs. However, Emilio cannot simply be the baby of the family for the rest of his life. He must do his part to preserve the family’s image of respectability. And, what is more respectable than a dental surgeon?
The de Jaureguis, circa 1930s. Young Emilio and Stella (clutching a doll) standing with their parents on what appears to be the deck of ship.
Emilio graduates from the University of Pennsylvania in either 1900 or 1901 (my mom has graduation certificate, but could not be reached at the time I am writing this). In a recent email, my uncle mentioned that Emilio went on to practice in London during the early 1900s, helping to reconstruct the faces of soldiers coming home from the war front. I look back at Emilio’s face. Maybe I have gotten it wrong. Maybe he is serious because he realizes how fragile it all is. When he looks into the faces of those around him, does he see the wounded faces of the soldiers? Emilio retires from dentistry fairly early. By the time the photograph is taken (circa the 1930s), he is already several years into retirement. Yet, this is not a man who is not willing to let down his guard, to simply rest on his laurels. Rather, this is a man who keeps a tight grip on his image, even during a day on the beach.
A Passenger list for U.S.S Wyoming dated 1936, listing the de Jaureguis. Note their occupations.
The Materials of History, Thought, and Art 
Elise, once again, I loved reading your post. As you dig into this family history, I give you a lot of credit for reaching out to people you have not spoken to in a while and for doing such a careful examination of the photos and documents you’ve been able to acquire. Your comment about the ability to identify our relatives in pictures is incredibly poignant for me, as I was thinking exactly the same thing when I was writing my post. The people we are writing about are our relatives; we are physical descendants of their bodies, their faces, and perhaps even their personalities, but I would have an easier time spotting George Clooney in a photograph than I would my own great-grandfather. In a way, I’ve begun to look at this entire course as an effort to revive my family history which was once lost, and I believe you feel the same way. For me, this problem of not being able to identify my family’s faces inspired me to work even harder to understand EVERYTHING there is to know about them. In this way, I hope that by the end of the semester I’ll be able to look at this personal family history I have reconstructed and feel that I did justice by my ancestors. I think that you are doing an incredible job at trying to get to know your relatives through the objects you’re working with, and I admire your dedication in trying to tell their story as honestly as possible. Tell us more!