| Notes |
Married:
- Subject: This Week (20161109)
‘Tis the season to be thankful. We forget that, sometimes, in between the jack-o-lantern hooplah and the Santa Claus rush. And so, I’ve been making a list and checking it twice. It is lengthy and varied and in no particular order.
Aside from my immediate family there are many people on the list for whom I am grateful. One of the first who comes to mind is Aunt Maude.
My grandfather’s younger sister, Aunt Maude was really my great-aunt. She and Uncle Waldo Cloud married somewhat later than most; in their early forties. When I was a kid, they ran the Gold Store. Country stores back then were stocked with everything from milk, cheese and butter to vegetables, fruit, canned goods and a candy counter with so many varieties of chocolate delights it was almost impossible to make a choice. There were brooms and dust pans, fly swatters, milk pails as well as socks, cotton stockings and flannel shirts. I’m sure I have forgotten something.
Aunt Maude’s house; the earliest house built in what would eventually become the village of Gold, was always spotless. The kitchen was fragrant with the aroma of freshly baked bread, both yeast and salt rising. She made wonderful fat sugar cookies, a spice cake that was not my favorite and I cannot recall ever seeing her without a starched apron over her housedress She played piano every Sunday at the Gold Union Church, keeping us all on time and on pitch.
When I was about seven, her father, my great-grandfather died. The night after his funeral the family gathered in the Cloud’s living room to remember him and to sing away their sorrow. It is the first time that I can recall hearing the family harmony and I was entirely awestruck. When one of the cousins sat down to the piano to play, I climbed up beside her and tried my hands at those white shiny keys. It didn’t take me long to realize that it was no where near as easy as they made it look.
“She ought to take lessons”, someone said. And, suddenly, I found myself signed up to take piano lessons from a lady in Ulysses and Aunt Maude had volunteered to make sure I got there.
So, once a week, for at least two years I rode beside her in her 1936 Chevrolet sedan to piano lessons. If I did well, she stopped at the local ice cream stand and bought a raspberry revel ice cream cone for me as a reward. Sometimes, if I did poorly but looked sad enough about it, she would buy me an ice cream cone even though I didn’t deserve it. Once I was in school in Ulysses and could walk down Pleasant Street to the piano teacher’s house, I was on my own.
When I was somewhere around fourteen, Aunt Maude decided she needed a break now and then and suggested, rather strongly, that I begin playing for church. There was no way I could argue and gradually, she retired and the church music became my job.
I grew up. The January before my wedding Aunt Maude gave an old fashioned quilting party for me at her house. The ladies of the community brought their hand-sewn and signed quilt blocks and passed each one around for all to see. I was way too young to appreciate the amount of work and love that had gone into each block. They also brought their favorite recipe and Aunt Maude put each of them into a small three-ringed notebook for me. I still have remnants of the quilt which my grandmother finished. The recipe book, stained and tattered, still rests on a shelf in my kitchen.
We knew that she wasn’t well when my husband and I were married that spring and before the summer was over she left this world for the next. At Uncle Waldo’s request, I played the piano for her funeral. And a year or so later, he gave me her piano. It still sits here today in my living room.
I am so thankful for my Aunt Maude, who made herself such an important part of my life, as she did for a good many others. I can hear her laugh; I can see her large long-fingered hands gracefully lifting over the keys on the church piano and I can clearly see her smiling as she handed me my weekly raspberry revel ice cream cone, whether I deserved it or not.
- My grandfather’s younger sister, Aunt Maude was really my great-aunt. She and Uncle Waldo Cloud married somewhat later than most; in their early forties.
occupation,jt:
- Subject: This Week (20161109)
‘Tis the season to be thankful. We forget that, sometimes, in between the jack-o-lantern hooplah and the Santa Claus rush. And so, I’ve been making a list and checking it twice. It is lengthy and varied and in no particular order.
Aside from my immediate family there are many people on the list for whom I am grateful. One of the first who comes to mind is Aunt Maude.
My grandfather’s younger sister, Aunt Maude was really my great-aunt. She and Uncle Waldo Cloud married somewhat later than most; in their early forties. When I was a kid, they ran the Gold Store. Country stores back then were stocked with everything from milk, cheese and butter to vegetables, fruit, canned goods and a candy counter with so many varieties of chocolate delights it was almost impossible to make a choice. There were brooms and dust pans, fly swatters, milk pails as well as socks, cotton stockings and flannel shirts. I’m sure I have forgotten something.
Aunt Maude’s house; the earliest house built in what would eventually become the village of Gold, was always spotless. The kitchen was fragrant with the aroma of freshly baked bread, both yeast and salt rising. She made wonderful fat sugar cookies, a spice cake that was not my favorite and I cannot recall ever seeing her without a starched apron over her housedress She played piano every Sunday at the Gold Union Church, keeping us all on time and on pitch.
When I was about seven, her father, my great-grandfather died. The night after his funeral the family gathered in the Cloud’s living room to remember him and to sing away their sorrow. It is the first time that I can recall hearing the family harmony and I was entirely awestruck. When one of the cousins sat down to the piano to play, I climbed up beside her and tried my hands at those white shiny keys. It didn’t take me long to realize that it was no where near as easy as they made it look.
“She ought to take lessons”, someone said. And, suddenly, I found myself signed up to take piano lessons from a lady in Ulysses and Aunt Maude had volunteered to make sure I got there.
So, once a week, for at least two years I rode beside her in her 1936 Chevrolet sedan to piano lessons. If I did well, she stopped at the local ice cream stand and bought a raspberry revel ice cream cone for me as a reward. Sometimes, if I did poorly but looked sad enough about it, she would buy me an ice cream cone even though I didn’t deserve it. Once I was in school in Ulysses and could walk down Pleasant Street to the piano teacher’s house, I was on my own.
When I was somewhere around fourteen, Aunt Maude decided she needed a break now and then and suggested, rather strongly, that I begin playing for church. There was no way I could argue and gradually, she retired and the church music became my job.
I grew up. The January before my wedding Aunt Maude gave an old fashioned quilting party for me at her house. The ladies of the community brought their hand-sewn and signed quilt blocks and passed each one around for all to see. I was way too young to appreciate the amount of work and love that had gone into each block. They also brought their favorite recipe and Aunt Maude put each of them into a small three-ringed notebook for me. I still have remnants of the quilt which my grandmother finished. The recipe book, stained and tattered, still rests on a shelf in my kitchen.
We knew that she wasn’t well when my husband and I were married that spring and before the summer was over she left this world for the next. At Uncle Waldo’s request, I played the piano for her funeral. And a year or so later, he gave me her piano. It still sits here today in my living room.
I am so thankful for my Aunt Maude, who made herself such an important part of my life, as she did for a good many others. I can hear her laugh; I can see her large long-fingered hands gracefully lifting over the keys on the church piano and I can clearly see her smiling as she handed me my weekly raspberry revel ice cream cone, whether I deserved it or not.
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