Stories of Auntie M - Sex~Kitten.net

One of my family’s favorite possessions is this photo of Auntie M: young, lovely, wearing a long skirt with a slit, at the rifle range. This photo not only shows M as a young, glamorous woman, with plenty of fire, but it was the first time anyone in my generation knew that Auntie M had gams.

Auntie M always, always, wore pants. Growing up, it was a bit unusual, even for my mother’s family of strong women. My Grandma, Ruthie, wore pants (and, it is to be noted, that despite her ultra feminine looks, she also wore the pants in the family -- but that is another story), but Ruthie often wore skirts & dresses at holiday & other festive gatherings. But not Auntie M. She was forever in pants.

We often joked that she had the looks of Katherine Hepburn, the voice of Selma Diamond, and the vocabulary of a sailor.

For long before the photo of the sexy-skirted-gun-toting-gal was discovered, we all knew Auntie M was ‘a character.’

She would pass barbs with anyone, including, or especially, my Uncle Freddy. No family event was complete without one of their classic spars. Here’s one classic exchange:

My mother would offer the ‘ladies’ a refill on their beers, to which my Uncle would invariably comment, with a nod to his wife, that Marion was ‘no lady.’ Auntie M would reply by simultaneously saying ‘Freddy’ in a warning tone as she lifted her middle finger (never raised straight due to age -- for years I though ‘giving the bird’ meant displaying the tall-man in a curled position!) Uncle Freddy would ignore her, & speaking to my Mother, he would say, ‘No more for Marion, thank you.’

This did not sit well with Auntie M. ‘I wasn’t going to have another glass, but since the jackass here thinks he makes my decisions for me, pour me half a glass, dear.’ My Mother, or anyone who had offered, always filled her glass -- the idea of a riled up Marion was more fear inducing than Uncle Freddy, who by now would be at the door jingling his keys (as if in the history of man, that has ever sped up a woman).

She drank her beer with a smug smile of satisfaction.

She was, for more than several years, the last surviving member of her generation. The keeper of all the old secrets.

We had always intended to tape some interviews with Auntie M. After every holiday gathering, we swore that next year we’d remember to get the cassette recorder out. Each year counting on her to be there the next. But like many intentions, they have paved a road to hell; for now we all know what we are missing.

I wish now I had asked her so many questions. I am sure that during this taped interview, Auntie M would transform from ‘the character’ to ‘the woman.’

Born in 1915, she was witness to so many changes. Though she was a child when women gained the right to vote, she was there for all those changes & challenges. Women grew as their roles were no longer so narrowly defined, and along with this the fashions changed. After her death, we discovered this photo of M as a young girl. She & her family are in a park, and it’s the fashions that display the array of attitudes at the time. You can literally pick out the generations simply by their dress!

What must life have been like for a woman to grow up in such times?

I know little of her early life. I know she lost a sister in her childhood, but I know little of the details, let alone the emotions. Auntie M herself never had any children. Very odd for the time. She was very clear about it, saying she & Freddy discussed it, but that she was ‘too nervous’ a person to be a good mother.

I remember vividly being a young child at her house, not so much puzzled by the lack of children (for she was ‘old’ right?) but by the lack of children’s things. All mothers have the old photos up, the odd toy, award or some aging trophy that proud parents treasure & therefore display for ever. The words ‘too nervous’ echoed in my brain as I went to stand at the large bird cage, filled with tiny noisy finches -- a whirl of color & sound that dizzied me, yet this ‘too nervous’ woman had them...

Now, as an adult I wonder about this choice of a ‘too nervous’ woman & her husband to not have children. Did she suffer the loss of her little sister still? Did her grief make her fear to be a parent? Were they unable to have children? Or was it a real choice?

Auntie M also outlived another sister, who remained single her entire life. Some family wealth would have allowed for this sister to remain unmarried as she did. Was this sister ridiculed for being an Old Maid, or was she envied for her autonomy?

Born in a family of some means, I am sure it provided her some advantages that most women did not know. This air of money would forever show in her carriage, if not displayed as wealth. She never carried on about money, neither from the place of fear of the financially insecure, nor from the place of presumed pompous privilege. But there was some confidence & assurance of herself that seems to accompany the financially secure.

I do know that Auntie M was employed by Ma Bell, back in the early days. She worked until Uncle Freddy returned from the service. Did she miss it? I do know she was madly in love with her Freddy, and was an even match for his passionate, & stubborn, nature, but did she chafe at the lack of options?

I know that she was considered ’independent,’ & often in the less than flattering sense, but how did Auntie M, the woman, feel during all these cultural changes we only read about? Did she wear those pants for comfort or shock value? Were they a symbol of ‘we’ve come a long way, baby,’ or were they just practical?

She never discussed politics. At least with family. So I don’t know what her political or social thoughts were. But she lived like a fiercely independent feminist. She didn't talk about it, she just lived it.

For all of Auntie M’s liberating ways, she never did learn to drive. As far as I know, she never tried. But then none of the women in their set did. This did not prevent M from getting around. Even after her beloved Freddy passed on. She walked to get her groceries & other necessities. Right up until the last few years. Her independent ways were not so much like the stubborn pride of seniors who refuse to see the light. She had always been this way. Her wonderful sense of humor was another way one could tell that her independence was not some senior induced rage at aging. Here’s another classic Auntie M story:

Once when my parents came to take her to dinner, they brought their new mini-van. Marion, never one to ask for help unless the icy walkways were treacherous even for young gymnasts, Marion took one try at climbing into the new van. Seeing that she’d need some help, she turned to my Dad & said, “Hey, Deano, use the old bowling ball grip on this old lady, & toss me in.”

(I’ll pause here & let you sit with the images that phrasing allows... Done laughing?)

Auntie M was full of wisecracking lines, corny sparing with her husband, clever retorts, yes. But for all the quips & retorts, there was a respect given to all. I never heard her utter a bad or unkind word. She never judged. She listened. She was outspoken, but never spoke so loud as to demand attention in that weak 'look at me! look at me!' sort of a way. She presented an aura of regal grace as well as air of approachability.

She possessed an integrity & strength that coupled can only be described as class. Perhaps that is why she was able to pull off the indelicate phrasings, the hysterical quips with such aplomb.

Looking like Katherine, talking like a sailor, with that raspy voice of Selma’s, it was an irresistible combination. Such a classy broad she was.

When asked the old parlor game of ‘If you were stranded on a deserted island, which two people, dead or alive, would you want with you?’ I always reply Auntie M.

If someone is out there with the power to grant those deserted island wishes, please let me know. I have so much more yet to learn from her.