A Few Words About a Great Woman

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Sure, I'm biased. She was my aunt. But I want to tell you why you should be mourning her death instead of me. My aunt was a remarkable woman. She never did anything of greatness in the eyes of the world: there are no streets named for her, no buildings, and no plaques. But oh, did she ever brighten the corner where she was, in the words of that old song. She didn't know a stranger. She always had a smile for someone. And she hated strife. She'd rather be a peacemaker. And cook?! Holy cow, could that woman cook. Thanksgiving was always my favorite holiday because of her dressing. Let me tell you, that didn't come out of a box!!! Even into her 80s she would do everything from scratch: make the cornbread, cut the celery and onions, and even make a turkey (she refused to use broth from a can or box!). She was born in 1927, two years before the Depression. She grew up during the Depression and World War II, so she knew a lot of hard times. She would tell me about an early job, working in a laundry (not the way we think of laundries today, mind you!), making one penny per shirt. The more she cleaned, the more money she made. (That was good money back then: both she and my mom frequently told of their dad [my grandfather] bringing home a nickel's worth of candy in a bag on payday, and it would take care of five kids for a week!) She never had any kids of her own: a hysterectomy due to endometriosis at the age of 21 saw to that. So, instead, she adopted all of her nieces and nephews. We were treated better at her house than at the grandparents' houses!!! She lived in the same house for decades, and probably would have died there had the city not bought out the property for airport expansion. It was a great house: a little house right next to the railroad tracks. I loved to sit on the front porch, in her swing, listening to Reds games with my uncle as we watched the trains go by. Alzheimer's is a cruel disease, because in essence you lose your loved one twice. Although my aunt died today, she was "gone" for months. The last time I saw her (confined to her bed in a nursing home), I don't know if she knew it was me or thought I was my mom. All of that pain is over for her now, and she started living in her eternal home today. What a great woman she was. And oh, how she brightened our corner. My aunt was 91. Here's Ella singing the song: