Yesterday I wrote of aunt Beulah’s death. It so happens the second blog I wrote, on January 5th 2004, was a tribute to her life and the relationship we had. I was only one of many who found her to be inspiring and always pleasant. My mother and she were friends closer than sisters. They both married brothers and are two of the few women I have known who never gave in to criticism, gossip or self edification. Her only son, Dale, follows in her path of giving the other guy the benefit of the doubt and not concerning himself with pettiness. He is her legacy of a good life, lived………and I am posting it once more in her honor.

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This is another of those depression days stories. Born at the end of one of the nation’s largest financial disasters isn’t the way to plan your future. I was the youngest child of two, born to parents who could barely eek out a living for themselves. Life was non-the-less good and filled with all the warm fuzzies that kids need. There were grandparents, lots of aunts and uncles and cousins to play with. In short, we had the essentials of life served up on a chipped platter.

This is not about my meager beginning, however, but rather about a lady who made my young life exciting and hopeful. She instilled a sense of carefree abandonment to the rules and expectations often foisted by my parents. If I thought I could bake a cake she immediately went for the recipe and measuring cups. If I thought I could sew a blouse, before I could blink, out came cloth, patterns and pinking shears.
Knitting lessons followed under watchful supervision and I actually made most of my first sweater. This is power stuff when you’re a 10-year old and most adults think you’re too young to waste their time with.

In short, I had my own “Auntie Mame” who in reality was my aunt Beulah. She was generous in nature, divinely forgiving, undemanding and fun. Through life she was agreeable, pleasant, complimentary and adventurous. Where most of my other family mentors were rigid, lecturing and made much of adult expectations, she was truly a joy.

We were soul mates until her death and she is still a reminder to enjoy life with childish anticipation. It was fitting at the graveside when a butterfly slid down a sunbeam and danced among the flowers on her casket and then suddenly flew away. I think my Auntie Mame and the butterfly flew away together.

Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther