Family Memories

My aunt’s passing has gotten so many of the cousins talking, in the best way. We are sharing memories that go beyond just our own immediate families but into our extended ones as well — even the “other sides.”

i must say that this is a time when social media has been a blessing rather than a curse. It’s brought up those “oh yeah, that’s right!” kind of things — like when a cousin reminded me a few weeks that his uncle-by-marriage on his other side was the attorney for a large state university’s board of trustees, and had more or less authored the severance deal when one of their high-profile coaches found himself on the wrong end of the NCAA’s investigative arm. 

And today, another cousin reminded me how much my other grandmother had been loved by my dad’s family. I’d often heard over the years how “Miss Prince” was so well-regarded by my dad’s mom, siblings, and their families. She and I were talking today about my aunt and her amazing strength — and I mentioned that I’d been there before too (having to be strong for others when I wasn’t feeling it myself). We started talking about my grandmother and she said, “oh yes, you were her shadow when you were a kid.”

I suppose I did, in many ways. My granny was my world. She was my first roommate and always made me feel like I was the only person in the room. And I probably repaid the devotion. I felt protective of her because of her disabilities.

And my dad’s family felt just as warmly toward her. I know they knew about my grandfather’s untimely passing, and how my mom and grandmother had been making it work as best as they could. They may have felt just as protective. 

Fading, fading

Earlier this week, my cousin texted me to let me know his grandmother (my aunt) was in the hospital. Today I got the text: “when you get a moment, please call me.” 

I’m no dummy. That’s never good news. For roughly the last 11 years, my cousins calling direct has almost certainly meant bad news, and too often the worst kind. And so it was today as well. My aunt suffered an unexpected cardiac arrest, and was unable to be resuscitated. My dad’s only remaining sister is gone, almost 3 years after her other sister. Now out of the seven, only four remain, all boys.

My aunt Peggy was my Shero, in so many ways. I could tell a million reasons why but suffice it to say that it was her outlook. My dad’s family is notoriously stoic. Up until they all got older, they didn’t say much (but my cousins and I can attest to how CHATTY they’ve gotten in old age). Each of my dad’s siblings have taught me something, and for me, with Peggy it was resilience. She has overcome things that would drive lesser mortals to their knees. She did it with this sense of one deep breath in, one long exhale out, and “okay, now we know, what comes next?” attitude. A moment to reset and then come up swinging. 

And she did so with tremendous love and caring. You were always welcome at her house, around her table. She was a sharp cookie and no pushover but she had a lot of empathy and care. 

That’s who I want to be: a woman of strength, resilience, empathy, love. I have a long way to go to get anywhere in Peggy’s league. 

Godspeed Aunt Peggy. After you have seen your husband and son again, please give all the relatives my love. I can see my brother laughing it up with you already. And I’ll see you one day.

Some Sunday Evening Thoughts

So let’s just start out with this: I have a lot of opinions about a plethora of topics, all from just this week. And I mean a lot. Probably enough for a novella. But right now, it all feels so raw and so sharp that I’m still processing it. Until I can and do so in a rational, better-thought-out manner......

I saw a tweet that I’ve seen for a few days and it brought a pleasant childhood memory to my mind. Right now, I need a little soothing so I wanted to discuss.....

Kristen Arnett @kristen_arnett

when find myself in times of trouble

mother pound cake comes to me

speaking words of wisdom

sara lee

Sweet little memories of dinners at Granny B’s house where the dessert was almost always Sara Lee pound cake, with strawberries and cool whip. Granny B was my next door neighbor and really was like another grandmother to me. My mother’s mom lived with us until I was 7. My dad’s mom was always at least an hour away and didn’t have a car. I’m not sure either of them had a driver’s license. But Granny B was there. Her grandchildren were much older than I was. Her great-grandchildren were more my brother’s age (and younger). Her daughter was my mom’s best friend. The house had been built originally by my grandmother’s cousin for my great-grandmother. It was a lot of interlocking parts. 

Usually on Saturday nights, once or twice a month, we’d go to dinner there. Usually nothing terribly fancy but just the joy of getting together and we’d have to be done by 7:00 because Lawrence Welk would be on, at which point we’d all gather in the living room to watch. Children of my age have memories of only two shows on Saturday nights: Hee-Haw and Lawrence Welk. And most of us got varying levels of exposure to each. 

I loved those Saturday nights for a lot of reasons. When I was there, it felt like I had a bit of a Norman Rockwell childhood. Of course, I have some differing thoughts about Rockwell’s portrayals than I did then .... but it felt safe and normal. I was a kid missing one grandparent already when I was born and the next one would die just months later. I didn’t have any aunts or uncles nearby (except my grandmother’s siblings or their widows). I felt almost feral sometimes, in part because I truly don’t think my parents knew quite what to do with me. Not in a bad sense, mind you; I just wasn’t

At her house, there was genteel guidance, presented in such a way that I wanted to do those things right, so that they wouldn’t be disappointed in me. Things like saying please and thank you all the times, or no elbows on the table. Even little things like learning to say, “may I be excused?” instead of jumping up saying “I have to pee!” At 4 or 5, that’s an important thing to know in order not to appear completely uncouth at school. My mom could have said these things to me a million times and all I would have heard was blah blah yadda yadda. When Granny B said it, it had far greater importance. I don’t know why but it did. 

I can still taste the pound cake and thawed strawberries all these decades later. And maybe I need to think of the words of wisdom imparted to me lo those many years ago at Granny B’s house.