A beautiful bright sunshiny day here in Boston. "The sun is shining, the tank is clean, THE TANK IS CLEAN!" ~Peach from Finding Nemo
I've just found out that My Aunt Sally - who is 94 - is being transferred to a nursing home tomorrow having been in the hospital for several days for "evaluation". I tell you - if I ever get to that point in life - just take me out. As in out back and shoot me. She is such an anachronism - the best way to describe her is she got to 1940 and stopped. As a young girl, I would be taken over to her home for luncheon, never lunch. Mind you this was with my polished Mary Janes, lace socks, pressed dress - and even gloves. It was an old lady house, even 30 years ago. No children's toys - nothing for a little girl to do but stare at a painting.
Let me clarify a bit - as this is one of my earliest memories. You would always enter through the front door, into the foyer and carefully wipe your feet. There was a short hallway in front of you which lead towards the kitchen and the living room to your left. To your right was the rest of the ranch style home. In the living room, there was a huge Oriental rug on top of which were austere looking pieces of furniture including a sage green couch, which was overstuffed in the back. As" children were to be seen and not heard", I would sit on this couch and brace myself with my arms to avoid sliding off. Sometimes I would bring a doll, but most times I just sat quietly. Over the back of this couch there was a painting, which I would stare at for what seemed like hours on end. I would make up stories about the painting which portrayed a man - with what looked like a Three Musketeers style hat- leaning forward on his knees and looking at a young baby whose arms were oustretched reaching towards him. In the foreground was a young woman. I dreamt that he was a pirate, meeting his daughter for the first time. A dashing rogue who could turn to mush on seeing a baby. If I thought about it hard enough, I could almost put myself in the picture - wearing a long dress of rustling material. (As one who believes a great deal in past lives this was not so hard to do!) It wasn't until several years ago that I finally told my aunt about my love for this painting. She was very surprised to learn this, as she thought "you youngsters didn't like things that were old." Are you kidding me? Aunt Sally has told me that when she is gone, the painting is mine as I love it so much. To seem less like a vulture, I commented back that I would be happy to have the painting come and visit my home when it was done visiting hers. She like that - alot. :)
I can also recall another visit where I wandered out in her backyard to look at the flowers. Not pick them, mind you - just look. I seem to recall that I had sandals on, and must have tracked in some sand from the backyard. She seemed to descend upon me, much like the Wicked Stepmother in Cinderella, with flashing eyes and a stern expression. "You wicked little girl just LOOK what you have done!" I don't remember if she suceeded, or just threatened, to spank me but I do remember being picked up and driven to my grandfather and grandmother's house. Now you must understand my grandfather was a HUGE man - size 13 shoes, over 6 feet tall with a shock of white hair who drove a small tank cleverly designed as a car. When my mother told him what had happened, he got in his tank (car) and drove from Lexington to Wellesley in 10 minutes, maybe less. Striding to her front door (mind you this is his sister in law) he told her if she EVER "touched his granddaughter again - she would answer to him. Was that clear?" Meekly, I am told she replied "yes".
Now that I am grown, her house is still magic - but unfortunately now one has to hold one's nose upon entering. She has let so much of it go... which is a true sin. My mom and uncle have tried nearly everything to get people in to help her- for my aunt is as stubborn as the day is long. She has fought them every step of the way but it seems there is an end in sight - in that she is being transferred. Now the true headache commences - cleaning out that house will be a full time job for many of the family. When all is said and done, my tiny apartment may just take on a new painting.