I found out last night that my last aunt died this past week. Now my mother and her six siblings are all gone. The children of my grandparents. A connection to the past severed. Me and my generation are the oldest now. But that's a different blog. This one is about my Aunt Sarah.
My sister told me there was no funeral or memorial planned, so I thought I'd "light" a candle for my Aunt Sarah and reflect a bit on her here.
Aunt Sarah was my mom's youngest sister. Mom helped raise her after their mom died in her early 40s. I recall my mom saying Aunt Sarah was "a handful," and so they put her in Catholic school. When I was growing up, that's where naughty kids were sent. If the nuns couldn't shape them up, the next stop was reform school. Aunt Sarah shaped up; Nuns with rulers will do that to you.
Summers at Aunt Sarah's
28 Richard Drive. I cannot tell you where I put my keys last night, but I remember Aunt Sarah & Uncle Charlie's address from 50 years ago. The drive from my house to theirs was only 35-minutes, but it was a world away from mine.
I spent a week, maybe two, every summer at Aunt Sarah's in Waldwick, NJ. In a family where most of my cousins were already young adults, Aunt Sarah had two rambunctious sons in their late teens and a daughter who was nine months younger than me. Going to Aunt Sarah's was a highlight of my summer.
28 Richard Drive Aunt Sarah and Uncle Charlie opened their home to me and with that a peek at a world I only saw on TV. See, Waldwick is very different from West New York, NJ where I grew up. Waldwick was "the Suburbs" while WNY was "the Concrete Jungle." The houses in Waldwick looked like the Brady Bunch lived in them: Neat, well-kept, split level, and ranch houses where macrame hung on the wall and Weeping Willows grew in the front yard. There were front lawns and back yards. Ducks came to roost in Aunt Sarah's front yard in the spring, and -- hold onto your hat -- people had barbeques! Houses had two floors and just one family lived on both. They had a den! Oh, my gosh, a wood-paneled den! Just like the Bradys! With a bumper pool table! Oh, yeah. By comparison, my family lived in a 3-room apartment and my brother slept on a pull-out couch in the living room. Yes, going to Aunt Sarah's was like getting a taste of the "middle class."
Station Wagons
Not only did Aunt Sarah and Uncle Charlie have a car (my family did not), but Aunt Sarah drove (neither of my parents did). I remember their station wagon. It was white, with wood trim, and red vinyl seats. The back seat had two benches that could be lain flat. We kids would lie in the back and make faces at the drivers behind us as station wagon rolled forward.
Aunt Sarah and Uncle Charlie took me to my first drive-in. I don't remember the movie. (I got stung by a bunch of bees in the playground before the movie started. Aunt Sarah got me some ice to put on the stings. Give me an indoor cineplex, any day.)
A TV Mom I cannot find a photo of Aunt Sarah. But I remember her voice and her smile. She was easy to be around. Didn't hover. Didn't put this shy kid on the spot and ask a bunch of questions. She just chattered on and let us be. Oh, and she wore pants! (Mom called them "slacks" and would not own a pair until I was thirteen or fourteen.) And Aunt Sarah was always moving -- the yard called to her, or laundry, or cooking dinner -- I had Hamburger Helper for the first time while staying at her house. (Mom pursed her lips when I told her about it. "Who needs help? It's hamburger?") Everything was "modern" and exciting at Aunt Sarah's.
She was a Den Mother for her sons' Boy Scout troop. She had two rowdy sons, my cousins Dougie and "little" Charlie -- who seemed to tower over me. They laughed, and teased, and Aunt Sarah would yell at them, but they were bigger and louder, and it was like yelling at a mountain to get out of the way. (This was the age of comedy records, and Dougie introduced me to Cheech and Chong in -- the den. I know: So cool.)
Aunt Sarah was creative, too, in a crafty way. When Denise and I had to make hats for some summer park activity, she made me a hat with a snoopy on the top and dog biscuits dangling from the rim (like pompoms but cuter). I won a ribbon for that hat. I should have given it to Aunt Sarah. I didn't. It went into a cigar box with other treasures -- like the autograph from a water skier in a show at Cypress Gardens. (I'm easily impressed.)
Speaking of dog biscuits . . . Aunt Sarah had a dog named Pookie who looked like the dog in the old TV show, "Don't Eat the Daisies." Going to Aunt Sarah's was truly like stepping into a '70s TV show: Green shag rug and lots of burnt orange.
But just as we know that those '70's tv sitcoms had a whole other side off camera and beyond the laugh track, Aunt Sarah's life wasn't always easy. Let's just say there was "stuff". Every life has some, right?
Lost Touch
After I turned 13, I didn't visit my aunt and cousins in the 'burbs. Denise and I had outgrown Barbies and developed different interests that didn't intersect. I heeded the call of Disco and Denise followed the Stones. We agreed we thought Rod Stewart was sexy, though. We lost touch, and I didn't see Aunt Sarah for years. A wedding here and there, but any news about her came second-hand through my mom or relatives.
I looked for a Christmas card and sent one each year. After Uncle Charlie died, Aunt Sarah eventually moved from 28 Richard Drive, my mom passed away, and then I really lost touch. Last month, a cousin gave me her address. Said she wasn't doing too well. Suffered from dementia and was living with one of her sons. My intention was to send her a card. Tell her I thought of her. Tell her I treasured my summers at 28 Richard Drive. Tell her I loved her. But I never sent that card.
Aunt Sarah gave me a glimpse into an economic class that I'd only seen on TV. And while I know her life was far from sitcom perfect, I treasure the summers she opened the door to me at 28 Richard Drive.
Good-bye Aunt Sarah. My memories of you are a blessing.
Writing prompt: Do you have a special aunt or uncle who introduced you to a world or activities your parents could not? What are those memories? If they are still alive, maybe drop them a line. I bet they'd be happy to hear from you.
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