Unsplash photo by @folk
I met great-great-great Aunt Sally on a hot August day. She was the oldest surviving member of the family. I was 7. I’d never heard of her before.
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She was in her late 90’s and was out in the garden sitting on the ground in her sunbonnet picking beans. She looked ancient to me. And I’d never seen an old lady sitting on the ground so comfy like that.
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Usually, the older ladies in my parents’ neighborhood had a stool to sit on, but not Aunt Sally. She was right down there in the dirt, scooting along when she needed to reach more beans. Like a kid. Like me. I’d never seen an adult doing things I thought only us kids did. It opened my eyes to the possibilities of what it meant to be an adult.
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Maybe you could just do what you wanted and not worry about what other people thought was proper. That wasn’t the program at our house. My mom was big on proper.
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But there was Aunt Sally, rolling around in her housedress in the garden. My mom didn’t say anything, but she did give me the stink eye when I asked if I could go join Aunt Sally and roll around picking beans.
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Aunt Sally got up and brushed herself off and called out “Now who have we here? Why, is that you Allie (my grandmother)?” My grandmother replied indeed it was and she’d brought her youngest son John Ed (my dad) and his family to visit. “Well come on in y’all and get out of the sun,” Aunt Sally said.
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In the kitchen we were introduced to Aunt Sally’s “second husband” of 50 years. This was Albertus Lucas who I’m not sure could see or hear us. He was sitting with Aunt Sally’s daughters (my something removed cousins) who started prepping the green beans for canning.
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Albertus Lucas wore dozens of copper bracelets and as he shook with Parkinson’s, he clanged and jingled and tinkled like a windchime. I gawked at him in awestruck wonder. Not just for the shaking, but I’d never seen a man wear bracelets, much less so many of them.
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I remember Aunt Sally looking at me and saying to Dad, “Why John Ed, this girl’s the spitting image you.” Aunt Sally smiled at me, and one of her daughters offered me freshly made lemonade.
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I don’t even remember the names of those daughters I was so caught up with staring at Aunt Sally and trembling Albertus Lucas. I forgot to say thank you until Mom gave me a nudge. One thing everyone has in our family is good manners. Mom made sure of that.
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Those daughters must have had families of their own. Families I’m related to. They might still be alive. Family I don’t know anything about. What about you? Do you know much about your grandparents and their parents? Who has that family knowledge? Or have you gone on-line to search out your long-lost relatives?
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If you still have parents or grandparents or older siblings or cousins alive, ask them about their childhood, their life and what it was like to grow up when they did. Who were their family, what were their stories, how did they live? Like me, I bet you’ll be surprised at who they really are and the stories they have tucked away.
PS: Being happy means doing what gives you joy. If your joy factor is low, let’s talk and craft a plan for you to relish all of your life. Click here for more info. Work With Me Did you know there’s an inside group of Reach High people and you can join? Just click here. Subscribe
