When I was a kid, old ladies were rather scary and annoying... especially the spinster variety. So the annual visit we took to Aunt Florence's after Christmas, was really something to groan and grumble about. Mom and Dad would get us dressed in our new clothes, and the seven of us would show up at her house in the oldest part of a neighboring town. It was big and and spooky at night, and make worse by my aunt's high pitched voice, and old lady mustache, as she grabbed and kissed each of us. Of course, we all had the same response... wipe off that kiss. We were then led into a darkened parlor to view her tinsel tree, the one illuminated by the rotating color wheel. She had a nice little piano, which I wanted to play, and she would have let me, except my father forbade it, as my playing was just two hand note banging. Once we all settled into her old musty couch, she would scurry off to the kitchen to excitedly serve us punch and cookies. The punch was High-C and ginger-ale, the cookies were Stella Doro stale. From out of her bedroom closet she would then pull out her slide screen, and permit my Dad to open it up in front of us, as we sat wriggling on the couch, politely munching the hated cookies. As kids we couldn't help whispering, "Hey how about a nice Hawaiian punch?"... and then... bam, someone would deliver the threatened blow. My Dad in Homer Simpson style would grit his teeth and glare at us, mouthing the words, "knock it off, or you'll get it." Then lights were dimmed and we were treated to an hour viewing of her latest travel photos. They usually included landscapes, with her ancient church friends in the foreground, and out of focus close-ups of flowers and weeds. Each slide had a lengthy story about people we didn't know, could care less about, and we couldn't wait until the dialogue and pictures ceased. Then we would endure the posed family photos, when the old Polaroid would be pulled out, and we would sit for many minutes with the cheese smiles, while she fussed over the intricate settings and dials. At the end of the visit, Aunt Florence would present us with wrapped presents... things she picked up second hand at the church rummage sale. My, Dad who was her nephew, got the same gift every year. A box of "fruities," which was an assortment of peanut butter stuffed dates, and coconut rolled figs, that he secretly referred to as monkey balls. She was the object of my parents cynical taunts, about her life as a traveling, church-going, vegetarian moocher, and we grew to make fun of her for the more physical aspects of her old wrinkly and rheumatoid traits. But now when I think back, my memories of Aunt Florence have softened. She was a generous soul who even in old age tried to share her happy world with two generations who just didn't understand. The presents she gave me were always Reader's Digest Condensed Books, which I secretly read and enjoyed. It wasn't cool to be a bookworm in my house... "you might end up as a spinster librarian like Aunt Florence" was taunted at me more than once. From Aunt Florence, I learned about unfortunate children in the world (she was a Christian Children's sponsor in the 60's) and I have since followed her lead and sponsored a young boy in Senegal for the past 7 years. It's no secret that I love photography, and have plenty of photos to bore my friends and family with, and I am Wiccan...having my first acquaintance to the idea of a "good witch", when Aunt Florence read me one of my first golden books...Casper (the friendly ghost) and (witch) Wendy Make Friends. I have grown rather fond of old Aunt Florence, and wish I could have shown her the kindness she really deserved. But for now, I'm content with the fact that this old, but not forgotten ancestor continues to live through me, as I follow her many leads. This close-up of the pink roses is for you Aunt Florence!
