Aunt Bee

Aunt Bee was a special lady.  She had an easy smile and a sparkle in her eyes and a ready hug that all let you know she was glad to see you.  I don't think a person who knew her didn't like her.  Although she'd been married and divorced she remained on good terms with her ex-husband.  Although they had no children together and he lived a thousand miles away he called a few years ago when word got to him that she'd had open heart surgery.  He wanted to send his best wishes for a speedy and full recovery.  My dad, who is a self-described curmudgeon disliking my mother's side of the family, readily admits he always liked Aunt Bee.  She was warm and welcoming and put people at ease.  She didn't judge people and always found the best in them.  She'd admit certain people had be unkind or even foolish or cruel but I don't believe she was capable of holding a grudge.  When one cousin was left alone to deal with a chronically ill child after her husband ended the marriage citing the illness as his tipping point, the rest of the family became very cold toward the ex.  Aunt Bee sought him ought at his son's wedding to give him her kindest wishes on the happy day.  Most of us were grudgingly cordial toward him.  She was utterly sincere.  I think she made the wiser choice.

the tykes are my mom and uncle

 Though Aunt Bee  had no children of her own and though that was a keen pain in her heart she doted on all her nieces and nephews, all three generations of them.  Long after the other Aunts and Uncles stopped giving out gifts to the hordes of children in the family Aunt Bee would seek each of us out at Easter to hand us a plastic egg with a couple of dollars in it.  At Christmas we each got a card with the same.  At other times of the year she'd sneak us some little treat amidst the crowd of the extended family.  If she knew your favorites she was sure to find that just for you.  Even as an adult, I knew any leftovers of her homemade buckeyes would be sent home with me because I loved them.  Whether it was a plastic egg, or a card, a buckeye, or one of the countless afghans she made, whatever she was giving you was given in such a way to make you feel like you'd just received a big treasure that no one else had, even though you knew darned well all the other cousins had gotten theirs.  She just was that good at making you feel especially loved.

aunt bee dancing with lovergirl

on the atv with diana

She had nicknames for each one of us.  To Aunt Bee, I was Lovergirl.  My mother once said she believed Aunt Bee came up with nicknames for each niece and nephew because she never had the chance to name a baby of her own.  Aunt Bee embraced anyone we introduced to her as a new family member.  She let them know she was not Mrs. So-and-so.  She was Aunt Bee and to punctuate her point she winked and handed you a treat or gave you a hug. She was the "fun" aunt, the one who would sneak you candy when your parents said no more, the one who would take a young niece or nephew in the car and let them direct each turn she took, the one who, as someone described so well, engaged in moderately risky but life-celebrating activities with all her kids. She was the aunt who took us snowmobiling on a frozen lake or three-wheeling through the woods. She was the aunt who had a swimming pool back in the '60s and who taught all the cousins of a certain age to swim.  When she had to move from that house she was still determined to have a pool so she sank a claw-footed tub in her backyard.

aunt bee and nana in the pool

She's one of the few people who really wanted to know the honest answer when she greeted you with a, "How are you doing?"  It wasn't just a meaningless social nicety to her.  And there was no sense trying to pretend you were "fine" when you weren't.  She knew better when something was bothering people.  She wouldn't leave your presence without listening to whatever the problem was, giving you a hug, offering some gentle perspective, and finding a way to make you smile.

ok, no sweatshirt here but her raucous joy is evident

Aunt Bee was a special lady.  She wasn't one for formality and ceremony.  She'd wear sweatshirts to all but the most formal events.  She had work sweatshirts, church sweatshirts, lounging sweatshirts, and special occasion sweatshirts just for fun, including a Christmas number with two large, strategically placed jingle bells.  She'd also sing and dance on cue just for giggles, always with a wink and a smile.  One especially hilarious example was at her younger sister's 80th birthday party.  The theme was '40s standards because the three sisters had all sung together in that era.  A singer of standards was hired to emcee.  At the end he called up the sisters to help him sing "I've Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts."  It started out properly enough but Aunt Bee got to the chorus and added her own set of ribald gestures as she continued to sing with a face that was the picture of innocence.  The audience howled with laughter at her antics.

moderately risky but life-celebrating helicopter ride at age 72

Aunt Bee didn't let much hold her back and she didn't let other people's expectations define her (see also jingle bell sweatshirt, coconuts, and parasailing).  She didn't care if "old ladies" didn't ride in helicopters or go parasailing.  She was going to.  The nieces and nephews sent her parasailing for her 80th birthday so we could return the favor of all the snowmobile and three-wheel drives.  She loved every minute of the ride. She had been burned severely as a toddler and had terrible scars covering most of one leg and part of the other.  She still wore shorts in hot weather.  She was going to be comfortable and she wasn't going to worry what other people thought of her scars.  Truth be told, I think her scars were part of her beauty.  When my uncle lost his arm just below the shoulder in a quarry accident neither one of them regarded it as a problem once it was clear he would not die from his injuries.   They both just got on with it rather matter-of-factly, not some emotionless stoicism but just a sense of doing what has to be done.  I credit their examples with part of my own recovery after I demolished my left arm and the doctor wasn't going to make any guarantee of how much use I'd regain.  I knew from them that even if I got no use back it wasn't going to be the end of the world.  Though I am thankful for what I regained and do not take it for granted. 

Aunt Bee had dreams and knew how to make them come true. She wanted to have a vacation place in the mountains.  She bought a lot adjoining the lot my grandfather had put a little trailer on.  At first she tent camped.  Then she had a teardrop trailer that just barely fit two people.  Next came a cozy screened-in single room with wood stove and a loft.  The outhouse was in the back.   Finally, she got a mobile home and built a deck off the back.  The mountains were her heart's home.  Just as my grandfather found solace there from his pain, Aunt Bee found the calm, healing, and peace she sought.  I understood the power the place had for her.  It's where I found a lot of healing as well.  The last conversation I had with her she let me know she was not happy about being in assisted living for the few weeks she'd had to be there for her own safety and well-being.  She looked me in the eye and said, "I just want to go to the mountains and be with my bears."

a friend and me with a bear captured near aunt bee's

She was heavily involved in working as a volunteer with the Pennsylvania Game Commission in their research about black bears.  Over the years she helped trap and tranquilize scores of black bears and help collect other information on the bears before they were released.  She had names for all the bears that regularly visited her yard and it was quite clear that they knew her as someone to be both trusted and respected.  She was known to tenderly feed them from her hand and to fearlessly shoo them off her deck if they got "fresh."  Birds and chipmunks were her other favorites and she spent much time feeding and enjoying them as well.  Any children who came to visit were encouraged to learn how to sit still and feed the chipmunks.  When we exchanged names for the family Secret Santa every year the only thing she ever asked for on her list was birdseed or peanuts for her animal friends.



Aunt Bee was creative and expressive.  Whether it was performing in a musical group with my grandfather in their youth, or crocheting afghans for each family member, or cooking something wonderful, whatever she put her hand to was beautiful and filled with love.  She was happy to teach you if you wanted to learn or share a recipe if you asked.  In her last few years she discovered writing as a way to cope with the grief of loosing my uncle.  Most of her stories were about the animals she loved at her place in the mountains.  She only hesitantly shared her stories because her younger sisters had mocked the simple and unpolished quality.  When she finally trusted me with them I told her how much I loved them.  They were charming and they revealed more of her heart.  Most importantly they eased her pain and that was what mattered most.  I entered into a pen pal correspondence with her and she shared family stories I had never heard.  I regarded each one as a treasure.

matriarch welcoming calypso as the newest member of the clan

Aunt Bee was such a special lady.  She was my favorite aunt.  Our family has lost its matriarch and we are poorer and less colorful for it, but how blessed to have had her for 89 years. Today we said goodbye to Aunt Bee.  In a move I am sure has her smiling, we did not wear traditional funeral clothes.  In honor of her love of wearing sweatshirts we each donned our own favorite sweatshirt.