My Day...

Today would have been my Great Aunt Irva's 98th birthday.  Happy birthday, Irva!

In her honor, I took the day off and ended up at Longwood Gardens.  It was a perfect day for it.  75 degrees with no humidity and poofy white clouds.  Lots and lots of pretties but right inside the visitor center I stopped to smell the roses, Irva's favorite flower.

I wandered out to the new meadow, most of which was just like where I grew up but there was a cool pond.  I was standing on the bridge, watching the water and suddenly one of the lumps moved.  It was a turtle!  I love turtles so that made the day for me.  Everything after that was a bonus.

A cool treehouse, a room full of orchids, a garden that was all shades of silvery leaves and a huge mellow cat lounging under a tree.  All in all a wonderful way to spend Irva's birthday.

Happy weekend, all!

June 20, 1916

Today would have been my great aunt Irva's 97th birthday. Sadly, she only made it to her 94th. Still, that's a long time. Imagine the changes she saw in her lifetime. She was the quiet sister. The good girl. The nice one. Or that's what people saw. Oh, don't take that the wrong way. She was those things. She was also the most sweetly determined woman I ever met. She issued orders that had everyone hoping all the while sitting regally and smiling sweetly. No one dared to refuse because it was Irva and of course you had to do what she said.

As I age, I find that I am looking more and more like her. I'm okay with that. Perhaps with the appearance will come the ability to command without seeming to as brilliantly as she could. I sure hope so because it was a true art. Gods, I miss her.

Happy birthday, Irva. I love you.

I Was Bad!

No, this is not another childhood tale although I suppose it did begin then.  This is me being currently bad.  Shameless you might even say.  I’ve mentioned my great aunt Irva.  I’ve also told you she spent her working life as a sixth grade teacher.  What I haven’t discussed is her uncanny ability to take charge.

In many ways I have always had anthropologist tendencies. Long before I’d ever heard the word and considered majoring in it, I would notice things, observe situations thoroughly and learn from them. 

One of the more fascinating experiences occurred between my great aunt and my mother.  Irva would get this look about her.  Her voice would take on a certain tone.  She would issue an order and my mom would jump and scurry to carry it out.  Oh, Irva was very polite and extremely sweet while making demands and waiting regally for my mom to accomplish her task but they were commands all the same.  It truly was beautiful to behold and I can picture it being just as effective throughout her 40 plus year teaching career.

Yesterday, I decided I wanted something that has been rotting away in my mother’s house, neglected and barely remembered since I was a child.  The only time it’s been mentioned at all was when she would consider disposing of it.  Not really the outcome I wanted for this so I mustered my best General Irva demeanor last night and called my mother.  I told her, very Irva-esquely what I wanted. 

I was informed it was not in the attic as I’d thought but in an outbuilding.  Hmm.  Not as hot out there but it would still take some doing to retrieve it.  Oh I know what you’re thinking.  Why don’t I just go and get it myself?  Well I could.  But I don’t want to.  I am providing her a service, removing said item from her life.  If I went and dug it out it wouldn’t be an even exchange.  And I’d already magically transformed myself into my great aunt so there was no backing down.  It would ruin everything and perhaps not be useful in future dealings with my mother.

So we hung up, her stating by all means, she would indeed unearth the treasure I am after.  Today, in fact.  And then Saturday, I will go and easily claim it from her porch, eliminating the need for her to determine how to dispose of it.  Fair all the way around, right? 

Today...

...Would have been my great aunt Irva’s 96^th birthday.  I miss her tremendously.  She was the one I could, without any hesitation, count on her to have faith in me my entire life before she passed away a year and a half ago.  It’s a bittersweet day, full of memories.

Irva was the quiet one in the family.  She went about her business, accomplishing everything she set out to do without making a fuss or drawing attention to herself.  She was a sixth-grade teacher her entire working life.  I remember going to lunch with her forever and having a handful of people stop to chat with her about the impact she had on there lives.  It happened no matter where we went in Carlisle.  Those that didn’t know her from school knew her for her lovely voice.  She spent 70 years in the church choir and over the years sang at many weddings.  Between the two occupations, she left a wonderful legacy.  I’m sure I could go back to the places she frequented and still find people missing her.

In her honor, I took today off and did fun things.  As a child, I remember going to the Carlisle Farmers Market.  I couldn’t get there today but I did go wander the Leesport Farmers Market, a place I know she would have enjoyed.  I even found a few orange and white kittens who resembled her cat, Puffy, to "fuzz" while I was there. I had lunch with the Little One who has adopted me as her aunt.  I even had a few bites of a decadent double chocolate brownie with hot fudge and ice cream.  I know Irva would have liked that.

As long as I have my memories, I know Irva will not ever be truly gone.  So happy birthday, Irva.  I love you.

Yesterday...

Was my great aunt’s birthday. She would have been 95.

I miss her tremendously, as you can imagine. She’s the only person who encouraged me my entire life, the only one who I was able to count on, no matter what. The only person to always be proud of me, whether I was four and learning to print her name or forty-four and sending off a book I had written.

I worked up the nerve to start going through some of the things I brought home from her house. I figured I was even more swamped with memories last weekend than usual so it was as good a time as any. I started with the box containing photo albums. Yeah, it was very hard. Bittersweet. But that one should be the most difficult. The others will be easier. They’re just stuff, not faces.

I found the scrapbook her class had made for her when she retired back in 1974. That was fun. I don’t know who they enlisted to snag pictures from her life outside of school but there were a bunch that made me smile. A million years ago, she used to sing professionally and there was a program for an event where she was the featured soloist. There were also pictures of her cat, Puffball, who hated everyone but Irva. She would corner me, not letting me out of the room, whenever she could. I can’t tell you how many times I had to call for help because of that cat.

There was an album of old relatives. Her grandparents, parents, uncles and the cousins. I had a lot of fun looking through that one. I knew the cousins when they were all over 50 so it was great seeing them with Irva when they were all much, much younger. And there was an album of me, birth to maybe age seven. Apparently I used to have a thing for hats. There’s one picture of me looking outside with longing. You can see the rain on the window. Some things never change.

Heartbroken

My great aunt made the decision to move into a nursing home last week. I say “made” only because she’s the one who finally came out and said it. There really is no alternative. She’s 94 and in the last two months has lost the ability to get around on her own. She had some physical therapy for a few weeks but they decided it won’t help, thus her need for an alternative to living alone.

She’s been in this apartment for over 25 years. Seeing her leave it is very, very sad. The social worker at the home thinks she may be a touch depressed over the whole thing. Um, yeah, me too. She’s leaving her home and all the things that have provided her comfort over the years and losing her independence all at once. I’m depressed too just thinking about it.

The idea of her sitting in a chair, staring at nothing like she has been hurts. She’s lost all interest in reading, so odd seeing her without a book nearby. On the rare occasion she bothers switching on the tv she watches without sound. She’s stopped participating in any of the activities the home offers, things she joined in on before when she was there for stints of physical therapy. She barely talks when I visit, as if all her stories have been locked inside, no longer meant for sharing. Yeah. As I said, seeing her like this hurts.

I would do anything possible to make this easy on her, cheer her up in any way I could. But I don’t know what to do. I’m not ever sure there is anything I can do. I’ve made sure she knows I’m here. I guess that’s about all that’s left now.

I'm Old

Yesterday was my great aunt’s birthday. She’s 94, still living on her own, still taking on the world. Amazing. I don’t know how she does it. Unfortunately there was no cake but we did go out for a very nice lunch at Olive Garden, her choice.

We were chatting and she told me how she remembers electricity being installed in her house when she was a child. She remembers life before central heating, getting the first coal furnace then switching over to oil. Heating water on the stove for her bath. Can you imagine all the other things that have changed in her lifetime?

Talking to her made me wonder what else will change for me. I remember getting the first color TV to watch the five channels we got, six depending on the weather. I remember replacing our rotary telephone with a push button one. Arcades without digital games. What a big deal Polaroid cameras were. Manual car windows. Not needing to dial the area code when you're calling within it. Life without computers and cell phones.

How about you? What’s the biggest new thing you’ve experienced?

My Great Grandparents

I was chatting with my great aunt over the weekend. Just the two of us which gave us the opportunity to talk for real. She’s amazing. Ninety-three and her mind is as sharp as ever. We discussed many things and wound up talking about her parents, my great grandparents.

Gramp was born in 1880 in Carlisle. Gram was born in New Kingston in 1881 and moved with her family to Carlisle in 1898. A week after arriving in town she became the church organist at Gramps church which is how they met. She continued to do that until the mid fifties when the church upgraded to a pipe organ.

They were married in 1904. My grandmother was born in 1909, my great aunt in 1916. I was thinking about that and it amazed me a little bit. For that day and age they were fairly old to be married. I have letters they wrote while they were courting. Back then the mail went twice a day and it wasn’t unusual for them to correspond with each possible post.

They both worked at the Bedford Shoe Company, a ten minute walk from their house. He started cutting leather when he was 12 and continued to do so until he retired at 65. Only he went back to help out after that so he never really quit working. She was a tongue setter, a process that can be completed in under ten minutes. I wonder how many shoes she assembled in her lifetime.

I wish I had a picture I could post. I didn’t know Gramps but I do remember Gram. She died at 88 when I was seven. I’ll never forget her sitting on the floor with me, coloring clouds that weren’t drawn as part of the coloring book. Hmm, perhaps that’s why I can’t seem to stay in the lines now.

A Spectacular Woman

I've been assigned the task of collecting books for my great aunt. Tomorrow, my mom, my brother and I are off to visit her. She's 91 years young and absolutely amazing. Her body may be slowing down but her mind is as sharp as ever. I believe this is because she reads voraciously. She always has. I seriously think she could be the poster child for all those ads that tell you how reading helps maintain your brain.

In her working life she was a sixth grade teacher. The town where she lives isn't all that big so she knows practically everyone. At times I go to lunch with her and her ladies. What a blast! I don't remember an outing ever when at least a handful of people didn't stop to chat with her. If it wasn't a student of hers it was a child of a student. It's now grandchildren of students. And each of them has a story that begins with "Do you remember the time..."

She was always very active in her local church up until a few years ago when she decided she'd rather just go and enjoy the calm the situation provides her. A soloist in the chior for as long as I can remember. The people who stop to say hello from that bunch always have a slightly different flavor to their stories but stories they all have.

And then there are her fellow teachers and cohorts from her youth. Talk about telling tales out of school! She's 91 and they're still talking about things she did 60, 70, 80 years ago. No matter who stops to chat, I always learn some new and interesting tidbit about that wonderful woman.

With the general state of the world today it's a nice feeling, having so many people approach her with happy memories. Well, time to get to it. It's a diffucult project because there are so many choices. Yes, my great aunt reads anything. And by that I do mean anything. She's the only person who reads everything I write. I'm sure there will be more on her later.

Reminder - Don't forget to balance your eggs today.