And a Merry, Merry Chanukah to One and All!

Bsd
It's Nittelnacht tonight, right?
And although tis technically Thursday all throughout the USA, I'm still posting a family story. Appropriate, as after a few months of travel, I'm ensconced on the family couch again. (Side note: It took 8 hours to fly from New York to Oakland. 8 HOURS.)
I'm a fourth generation Californian on my mother's side.My mother recently told me this story about her paternal grandmother, Pauline. Pauline's parents were divorced. Her mother ran a boarding home in Sacramento, and her father lived in San Francisco. Pauline and her siblings starred in vaudeville shows.
Pauline married a non Jew. Her father refused to speak to her after this. When she had my grandfather, she would take him down to the street where her father lived, and would walk my grandfather in the carriage up and down the street. This is how my great great grandfather knew his daughter had a son.
Pauline eventually divorced her non Jewish husband. She moved into her father's home, and he helped her raise her children.