Mama
said…number 4, my final essay in this series
About Aunt
Dora
My dear Aunt
Dora lived in the same little house, in the same small town, for all of her
life. She never travelled further than a
cousin’s place in Detroit but somehow the world came to her.
Having lived
in the same small town for so long, it’s no surprise that when my then newly
wed brother and sister-in-law mailed a thank you note from Spokane, Washington simply
addressed to Aunt Dora, Woodburn, Indiana it was delivered with no
problem.
When my aunt
agreed to marry my Uncle Elson, a dashing young stranger who had come to town,
my grandfather insisted that they should move in with him, to live together, in
the house he had built, and take care of him as he grew older; my grandmother
having died some years earlier. They
agreed, accepting that moving in with him made good financial sense. Lest you think that my uncle was a ne’er-do-well,
he worked for many years at GE and could certainly have afforded to provide a
newer, nicer home for the two of them and their two children.
But my
grandpa really wanted them to stay and so they did. Uncle Elson was the first bit of the wide
world to come to Aunt Dora, closely followed by my mother, the ‘wicked’
big-city woman who had lured my father (Aunt Dora’s baby brother and their
hometown hero) into marriage, while he was away from home serving in the
Army.
I’m not sure
how it happened that Uncle Elson came to Woodburn, but he came with stories of
working for the WPA and as a cowboy out west.
He even had (gasp) a tattoo, which no one else in our family had. It was a hula dancer tattooed on his left
lower inner arm and, when he flexed his muscles, he could make it dance. We kids were all very impressed. I’m not sure if that’s what sold my aunt on
the idea of marrying him or if there just weren’t that many available men, or
if it was just his charm. I do have a
picture of him from those early days though, and he did cut quite a dashing
figure.
As life went
on my Aunt Dora had many jobs, including babysitting for most of the children
in that small town. Her own two were ten
years apart in age so she had time to care for other people’s children. She and my uncle later worked for many years
as custodians in our local Lutheran school, again knowing all of the children
by their names and family connections.
One of her
few treasures, built on all these connections, was a bow-shaped glass fronted six feet tall
cabinet full of her collection of salt and pepper shakers from all over the
world. Everyone in town knew about Aunt
Dora’s collection and would bring her souvenirs from their travels. The world came to her.
The reason I
am including my Aunt Dora in this series of essays about mothers is because she
was the closest thing to a grandmother I ever had, both of my grandmothers
having died before I was born. When I
got sick at school I could walk to her house and she would always take care of
me. We lived out in the country so
walking home was not an option.
When our
mother died, I was 21 and my youngest brother was only 11. My middle brother had married right after
high school and was living with his wife in an apartment. I was teaching school and living in a city
which was a two-hour drive from home. So
Aunt Dora was the one who stepped in to help with the everyday chores and ease
my father into the responsibilities of being an only parent and widower at the
age of 49.
All of this
while she was also caring for my grandfather who had developed diabetes and had
had both legs amputated. He lived for
several years after those surgeries thanks to her devoted care.
Uncle Elson
died very unexpectedly of a heart attack in his early seventies. “Just fell down on the kitchen floor and
died.” as she described it to me later.
Sad to say, but quite truthfully, the memory of how she handled that
situation was my guide as I dealt with
the unexpected death of my first husband.
If she could get through it, so could I.
I loved my
Aunt Dora and I honor her memory.
