Aunts: Part Four

There was one more aunt in the family. She was my father's sister. Our familiess lived only five or six miles from each other, but we rarely saw each other. Aunt Esther was eleven years older than my father, and she married young, so they had little time to get to know one another as children. Her first three children were born within a few short years, and  she was busy with them, while Daddy was growing up. His neices were born when he was a young boy and I don't imagine he had a great deal of interest in girl babies when they would visit.

What I knew of Aunt Esther, I liked, but I must admit that I didn't know her very well. She would come to visit us occasionally while I was growing up. She was soft spoken, kind and she reminded me of my grandmother, her mother. In her middle age, the same year that two of her daughters gave her the first two grandchildren, Aunt Esther had her son. With the first part of the family being 14 years or so older than I was and the last child being a good bit younger and a boy to boot, I didn't know those cousins well either, when I was a young girl. However, as I grew older, I got to know them, and their children better and am in contact with some of them via Facebook. Those are the children of my older (first) cousins who have passed away. Their brother is still alive, never married, and has no children.

I digress. Aunt Esther was built much the way my grandmother was. She had the features of the Case family too. The last time I saw her, she was beautiful at 79 years old, with snowy white hair, like my grandmother's sisters had. Aunt Esther always had thick gray hair with enough wave so that she never needed to put a curler in it. I've determined that she and Daddy both got their wavy hair from Grandma, as Grandpa's hair was thin and poker straight.

This aunt of mine was as talented as the aunts on Mom's side, but in a different way. She was able to draw and paint quite well. I've determined that she and Dad both got that talent from Grandma, as well. I don't have any idea whether Grandpa had an artistic bone in his body, but Grandma drew pictures and painted with me, so I know that she did. When Aunt Esther had free time, she painted pictures...fishing boats, the ocean. Things that she knew and things that she loved.

The ocean was dear to her. Her home was near enough so that she could hear the ocean if the wind was right. She spent much time walking on the beach, and when the weather was right, she swam in the strong sea. If the sea was too wild, she would opt for swimming in the bay. She knew them both well, and enjoyed them both.

I wish I had one of her paintings of the sea. It would hang in a special place in my home, but her son, and grandchildren too, will not part with her work for love nor money. I don't blame them, and hold no ill toward them for their decision. Still, it doesn't not quench my desire for one. When she died, in 1997 I believe, there were many of her painting surrounding the casket. It seemed a fitting send off, her family thought, to surround her with her precious art work.

Whenever I see the ocean in Amagansett, I cannot help but think of Aunt Esther, and wonder how it would have been if I had known her better. What would I have learned of her, of my grandparents and my father, had I had a chance to visit with her often? I can only imagine, and I'm left to wish that I had known that part of my family more intimately.

Decorating: Part 2

Waiting seems to work. If I keep listening and remember, things fall into place. There were a collection of 'ideas' gathered from things Mom has said over some period of time. "I'd like a rug with a border around it, but a pattern in the center, not a plain center." "I'd like a rocking chair." "I want to use burgandy in my living room." So, when I spotted a large area rug with burgandy, cream and a little leaf green, I knew it would be perfect. The price was good too, so I immediately called Mom to tell her about it. She trusted my judgement, and I purchased it. It turns out that it's perfect! Whew!

Now...the couch is covered with a burgandy slipcover, with cream throw pillows. The rug is in place, the rocker is in the corner. Mom happened to have some burgandy fabric with a slight pattern with which to cover the wicker chair cushions. I had some sheer drapes which I gave to her that will work well in the room. So far, so good.

Since Mom doesn't watch tv much, I would truly like to either remove from the room and put it into her computer room or to find a small, taller unit in which to place it. It currently sits on a heavy table. It's an older, 'bulky' model, rather than a sleek flat screen. It works fine, so there's no need to replace it, but it does cause the eye to take note of it's husky shape. Maybe we'll get to that. I'd also like to see a nice book case for the wall between the living room and the kitchen, and perhaps some standing lamps, rather than the too-short table lamps. I think the table lamps prevent Mom from seeing to the best of her limited ability.

The next step in the process now is to get the samplers and photos in place on the wall. She also has a small quilt that she made which she wants to hang over her couch. We just need to figure out how to hang it so that it is best displayed. Personally, I think the quilt pattern is a bit too 'busy' for the room, but it is Mom's decision and I'll do what she likes.

It's surprising how uplifting a 're-do' is, whether it is to our physical appearance or to our surrounding space. The job is nearly done, and thus far, Mom seems to be very happy with the way things look. We'll stay on the hunt for whatever idea comes up, and before you know it, Mom will be sitting in a room that is completely renewed!

Decorating Plans, Part One

This time it's not my house....although I'm always 'tweaking' things around here, moving things from place to place, or finding something to add or subtract. I have a new project going on.

For some time now, Mom's been wishing she could make her house look different...more cozy. She's not awfully good at telling anyone what she likes, and often says that she can see it in her mind, but doesn't know how to make someone understand what it is she imagines. For the longest time she was on a search in consignment shops and thrift shops (our favorite haunts) for a new dining set. Nothing pleased her, and I finally determined that it was just useless to keep going out looking for one and coming home with nothing. I thought that if it was meant to be, we'd just 'run into one' when we were least looking. I was right.

One day I was out running my errands, and without any thought, I stopped at my favorite shop. There it was! Just what I thought Mom wanted in the way of a new table and chairs. I called her and told her all about it, and she decided to take a chance and let me bring it home, knowing that she couldn't return it. She was so pleased when she saw it and kept saying, "That's just what I've been looking for!" At last! That challenge met a victorious end!

Then, a good many months ago, she began to talk of redoing her living room. Uh oh! What would I be looking for this time? I like to help her, but it's hard if I don't know what she wants or how she wants to do something. I offered her some of my books, in the hope that I could at least figure out what style she was hoping for. She said she thought 'cottagey' would be perfect, which it would, for her small little white home with the green shutters. So, I showed her my books on Cottage decorating. No, she doesn't like the 'splashy flowered furniture' (Cabbage Roses) or soft colors because they are hard to keep clean. She's 'not wild about' stripes either and she doesn't want wicker. Ok... now what would I do with this? I guessed it wasn't Cottagey she wanted after all. So....I waited. I knew that sooner or later we'd 'get there'.

Papa's Hats

My husband has never liked hats much. However,in summer and in winter, he does yield to the need to wear one. The sun is bright and the rays can be severely damaging to skin, especially an almost bald head. It's a sort of Austrailian 'out back' type of hat, with a brim all around, and netting in the crown area for free air flow.

In winter, the air is cold, and since he spends so much so much time outside, he has chosen a very special one to keep his head warm. I think it is his favorite. He calls it 'the rat'. He looks like a mountain man all through the cold months. It is made of a nylon, with quilted lining, and fur sections that he leaves folded upward, forming a circle around the crown. Only on the very coldest of days does he fold the fur down to cover his ears. When he does that, there are two little 'animal ears' that show at the top sides of his head. I call them squirrel ears.

My own favorite, however, is his felt Stetson. He looks so handsome in this article of clothing, and I do wish he'd wear it more often, but am happy to see it whenever he does. He owns a number of baseball caps but he doesn't choose to wear them. I don't know why. He just says he feels weird wearing those.

Our grandchildren seem to love their Papa's hats, especially Abigail. Whenever she is visiting, or we are visiting at their home, she invariably will grab whichever chapeau is in season, and she will run off with it. She will return, and remain just out of our reach, making silly faces, playing a sort of 'catch it if you can' game with Papa. I don't know why this is such fun, but it brings many giggles, so obviously it brings both of them pleasure.

Abigail has her own assortment of hats, but I'll keep the sharing of those for another day.

The Dress Up Box

When I was a little girl, sometimes I'd go with my aunt to visit her friend, Jeanne. She lived in an old house with an attic and I was allowed to go up there and play with lace curtains and fabrics that I could wrap around myself, creating imaginary gorgeous gowns and furs. I must have been a real sight, but in my mind, I was a beautiful bride in lace, or a movie star in elegant dresses, or a queen in full regalia.

It was the only place I played dress up. Remembering that fun, when my children were small, they had hats and shoes and jewelry. Basically, all they had was accessories.

Thinking back, when I became a grandmother, one Christmas I made a few costumes for Lisa and Darren. Aside from an assortment of crowns and helmets and hats, Lisa had a few easy 'girly' gowns, shoes and jewels. Darren had a cowboy vest a sheriffs badge, and a fireman's raincoat.

I thought that I'd go a step beyond and provide the children with actual outfits, not just accessories. So, I scoured thrift shops for small sized semi-formal gowns and fancy shoes that were not too high or too huge for tiny feet. I even found a real fox collar, which, when wrapped around the shoulders of a young glamour girl, made a perfect fur stole.

The girls were all set, but boys are a little harder....and there wasn't much at Grammie's house for my grandson to dress in. It didn't matter, because by that time, he wasn't as much interested in it as the girls were, and he found other ways to entertain himself. The little ladies, though, especially the two who lived with us for a number of preschool and grade school years, never ceased to enjoy the dressing up. We were the honored guests at many a wedding, fashion shows, fancy tea parties and Cinderella balls. Sometimes there were plays and we were the audience, sometimes we were the victims of a 'magic wand' placed upon us by a winged urchin. Whatever the case, it was always entertaining.

The two "Little Ladies" who lived in residence moved away...900 miles away. When we moved closer to them, we brought the costumes with us. About 6 months after we moved into our new home, two hours from them, their mother decided to move back 'home'. They still came to visit, though, each summer...and the first thing they would do when arriving at our house was to go to the Grandkids bedroom. Within minutes they would saunter down the stairs in clear plastic children's high heels or pink satin slippers with feather trim, wrapped elegantly in a light blue chiffon ruffled mini gown (which reached their ankles) or a shimmering silver 'icicle' dress. The eldest of those two is now thirteen years old, and my thinking is that she will still enjoy the costuming and imaginative play when here on her next visit. I'm sure that one item that I purchased when she was four years old, which was her favorite for all the years before this one, will no longer fit her. It is a strapless, black lace, and was made for the tiniest figure of a young woman, and was meant to fall somewhere mid thigh on a proper model wearing it. Of course, when Kimbie got it, I put darts in the top to keep the bodice up, the waist fell somewhere below her hips, and the full skirt reached the top of her foot. If it fits this year, it will fit the way it was meant to.

I remember one time when she put that dress on. She came out, with a dish towel on her head, held in place by some sort of stretchy headband. A baby blanket was wrapped around her shoulders, and her dress was the black lace one. She carried her baby doll, and told me she was Mary, the mother of baby Jesus. Oh my! Can you picture the expression on the real Mary's face upon seeing that image! I'm sure she would be amused, to say the least...that is, if she didn't burst into gales of laughter!

The dress up box is not idle while my "Little Ladies" live their lives in NY. The two Georgia girls called "Tsunami" and "Aftermath" by their Daddy are still at the right age to enjoy the costumes. I have added a number of things to the box since Kimbie and Becca played with it the last time....so when Selah and Abigail come to visit and, like their older cousins did, make a bee-line for the Grandkids' room, they have a greater assortment of choices. There is a shimmery white dress, which was made as an 'ice princess' costume for one of Kimbie's masquarade parades at school. It easily becomes a bridal gown with the newly added veil and bouquet of fake roses. There are matching green chiffon and gold lame gowns that I made for the box. There are strands of shiny beads, collected when people on the parade floats threw them to us. There are tiny purses and long lengths of purple net set with sequins to use for trains or shawls. There are dance costumes, tutus and leotards. That box is a full box of fun and pretend, just waiting to happen!

If I've ever done anything right for the kids in this family, it was providing that costume box. It's provided years and years of imaginative fun for the young ones, and I, for one, will miss it when they have all outgrown it.

Aunts: Part 3

Today let me introduce Mom's youngest sister to you. She was about eight years younger than Mom, and approximately thirteen years older than I was. I don't remember much about her before I was four or five years old, but there is a photograph of me at the age of three that showed what she'd been up to that day. She had 'dolled me up' in red lipstick, one of her striped skirts, and lots of jewelry. I'm sitting next to Gramma in the photo, on the steps of the front porch.

Aunt 'Nita (Anita) was a 'fun' aunt. She had a sturdy frame and was a bit round. Her personality can only be described as 'jolly'. She married at a young age, to Uncle Ros. They would invite their little neice (me) to spend a few days with them from time to time. There wasn't a hint of jealousy in her when I said that I was going to marry Uncle Ros when I grew up! In fact, she thought it was quite amusing, knowing full well that I'd change my mind many times before I reached the marrying age.

When I was six years old, the young couple became parents to my only girl cousin on Mom's side. We became as close as sisters, in time, but I don't remember too much about the baby when she was little. About three years later, a little boy was born to the family, and being a little older, I was able to be helpful in caring for him and playing with his sister. I loved to push the baby in his carriage when we would sometimes walk downtown. I remember changing his diaper one day, in my church clothes, feeling like a 'big girl' to have been given the job. The little stinker turned into a water fountain, and I was his target! Aunt Nita covered him and laughed and laughed until her sides hurt! At first I didn't find it funny, but Aunt Nita's sounds were coming out in 'ooooo, oooooo' as she laughed, and I soon found myself in a bout of extreme giggles.

Around the time of my wedding, Aunt 'Nita began to have some health problems. She seemed to have problems eating certain foods. She lost some weight and, since she'd been fighting the battle of the buldge for as long as I could remember, I'm sure I thought she was dieting. Now, looking back, it probably had something to do with the ailment she was dealing with.

The time came when I was expecting my first baby who was due in the middle of January. Aunt Nita crocheted a sweet little pink sweater with matching hat and booties, even though she didn't know if the baby would be a girl or a boy. I guess we know what she was hoping for! At any rate, the sweater set was given to me at my baby shower, with a card from my grandmother, who was unable to do handiwork any more. Aunt Nita's gift was another creation she'd made. It was a knitted yellow and white sweater and hat, with a matching pair of knitted pants to keep little legs warm. I still have the tiny pink set, packed safely away. Each one of my baby girls wore it, as did some of my granddaughters too. There was also a cute pair of pink knitted slippers for baby, with a pom-pom head on the toe, with pointed ears and wiggly eyes.

Aunt Nita was sick and was lying on the living room couch, day after day. She couldn't keep anything on her stomach. My Aunt Sis and Mom would take turns going to help with the kids and meals and housework. The doctors said she had colitis, an intestinal ailment. Eventually, they determined that she needed to have surgery. When they opened her up, they discovered that she was riddled inside with cancer. They closed her up, and we waited.

On the Saturday before Easter, I went over to the house and asked my cousin, who was then sixteen years old, if she'd like to walk downtown with me. We had a nice afternoon together while Uncle Ros went to the hospital to visit with his 35 year old wife. When we got home, Uncle Ros looked funny, and he struggled with what he had to say to his daughter. "Mommy died this afternoon." We all stood together, in a huddle, crying together. My ears burned, my cheeks stung as the tears fell. I stayed only long enough to compose myself so that I could drive home.
Their little family needed to be together to let this news penetrate. They didn't need me in the way.

I packed up my baby and left, saying I would see them soon, and to let me know what I could do for them. I drove home, fighting the tears, but not really able to believe what had just happened, until I placed my baby in her high chair. I was still crying and the baby looked at me with a wondering look. When I said to her, "It's ok. Mommy's just sad. Our nice Aunt Nita has gone to Heaven." That's when it became real to me.

Aunts: Part Two

The other day I told you of my beloved Aunt Sis, the first-born of my Grandparents four daughters together. Today will be about the second-born daughter, named Phyllis. To the neices and nephews, though, she was always called Aunt 'Puddy.' From what I understand, she was dubbed this pet name when her youngest sister was learning to talk and couldn't say Phyllis properly. 'Puddy' she was, ever after.

Aunt Puddy was Mom's companion and probably 'best friend' while they were growing up. No one has said so, but I believe it was because there were only a few years between them, and greater distance between the other sisters. Anyway, they were 'thick as thieves' to coin a phrase. They were involved in the same church groups and double-dated in those years. They were married the same year, and Aunt Puddy was my mother's maid of honor. When I was going to join the family, so was Aunt Puddy's first son.

The two sisters remained close as the young mothers each raised three children, with me being the only girl among them. Aunt Puddy always had hoped for a little girl, but she was the Mom of all boys. She always said that if she had a little girl she would have named her Rebecca, after her grandmother (and her great-great grandmother too, as I have since discovered, though Aunt Puddy never knew that fact.) Rebecca was the middle name given to Aunt Sis, so that might have been another reason she liked it so much. Because she didn't have the chance to use her favorite name, I gave it as a middle name to my middle daughter...and since then, my granddaughter also was given the name as her first name. I'm sure Aunt Puddy would be pleased and would love each of those who bear the moniker.

Mom and Aunt Puddy accompanied each other to the American Legion auxilary meetings. They marched in holiday parades wearing their navy blue uniforms, with a red poppy on their lapels.
They went to weekly Bible studies together, learning even more how God would have them to live their lives. I was often a part of those meetings too, and though the women were a generation or more older than I was, as a young woman, I didn't feel out of place with them.

She had always been a good aunt to me. When I wanted to learn to paint, she said she'd help me, and she tried, but though her heart was in it, she hadn't learned a whole lot in her art classes. Truthfully, she wasn't very good at painting, but I was young, and I thought she was the best! Anyway, I appreciated her efforts in trying to help me, and liked spending that special time with her.

She really liked Shirley Temple movies, and sometimes she'd invite me to go to see one at the local theater. I don't know if she want me as company, thought I'd enjoy it too, or whether she would feel odd going to see a 'little girl' movie as an adult without a child with her! Anyway, I learned that I really liked those movies too, and have a number of videos, which I've shown again and again to my granddaughters, who enjoy them as much as we did in the theater.

Another entertainer that was a favorite of Aunt Puddy's was Elvis Presley. It was quite comical to me to watch her and Aunt Sis get all 'silly' over his movies or songs. Between the two of them, they had quite a collection of his records and they saw every movie he made. I liked him, but I was more interested in other artists than I was in him. However, if I was invited to see one of Elvis' movies with my aunt...or the two of them together...I'd gladly go.

Aunt Puddy was a Sunday School teacher and she got me involved in teaching a class, too, to little tiny three year olds. I don't know how much they learned, but it was a good beginning for me in sharing God with others. Each Sunday morning she would come to pick me up and drive me to the Session House, where we'd separate and go off to teach the children, her class a few years older than mine was.

When I was engaged to be married, it was Aunt Puddy who opened her home to friends and family, giving a bridal shower in my honor. When I was expecting the arrival of our first baby, once again she gave a party, showering me with beautiful, tiny garments and gifts for the new member of the family. She was so excited to have a baby girl to cuddle and love. I didn't disappoint her...I gave her four baby girls to love ...and a son.

A few months after my second child was born, Aunt Puddy became a grandmother to her own little girl! Oh, there was never a baby like that one...but she did not forget mine. She seemed to love them almost as much as her own grandchild. She ended up with another granddaughter and a grandson, too. She didn't get to spend as much time with them as she would have liked to, because she worked full-time in the office of a building contractor and land developer.

There came a time when my aunt needed to have surgery which would require her to take some time for recuperation. She invited me to take over for her while she was unable to work. It went well, and everyone seemed happy with the arrangement, despite the circumstances. When she was well again, she took her job back, and I got back to the business of caring for my children again, with a few dollars extra in the household. Sometime later, I worked at her job again. This time she didn't go back.

She had cancer...but I was not aware of it at the time. She didn't want anyone to know, and so I have no idea how long she had it before she entered the hospital at the end. It seemed that she wasn't there long before she faded away and went to be with her Lord at the age of sixty-two.