Happy 92nd birthday!!!

I’m a day late on my blog for this month. Actually a day and a half, since I usually set them to post shortly after midnight my time. But I had good reason. I wanted to take this month’s blog to pay homage to my Aunt Merna, who turned 92 years young today.

As a child, I remember my Aunt Merna as this impeccably dressed woman with an impish smile, a great sense of humor, and a hug for any kid within reach. She couldn’t have children of her own, so adopted all of us nieces and nephews, and there were/are plenty of us to hug.

Now that I’m older, I realize that she was Wonder Woman in a day and age where women stayed in the background.  She worked full time as an administrative assistant and kept up with everything around the house. All the cooking and cleaning, etc. An independent woman.

She needs a little more help these days, but that doesn’t diminish the sparkle in her eyes or that impish grin of hers. She finds joy in each day, even though her body complains. I admire her.

Several of us got together and took Aunt Merna out to lunch today to celebrate and the woman who said she didn’t celebrate birthdays anymore ate it up, along with the free hot fudge sundae!

Happy, birthday, Auntie. Let’s do this again next year. 🙂 And a merry, merry Christmas to those who celebrate. To everyone, whether this is your holiday or not, I wish you a peaceful and happy December and entrance to a brand new year full of new possibilities.

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Silly Memory That Still Makes Me Smile

Jillian here. I was working on an upcoming blog post for a friend for the month of October which is apparently Family History Month. My post for then is about my two great aunts. One of which I knew well and one who died before I was born. It reminded me of a funny event involving the one I knew and I thought I’d share it for my post here this month.

My family is from North Alabama. Even though I never lived there, we visited a lot.

My great aunt Lit was my paternal grandfather’s sister. She was married to a man named Charlie Sandlin and I loved, loved him- her, too, but her husband was my pal as a kid. My grandparents owned a house on the Tennessee River and Uncle Charlie and I would swim the mile and a half across it all the time- we’d try to touch bottom way out in the middle. Sometimes we could and lots of times, we couldn’t. The Wilson Dam was not too far away and the water levels rose and fell as the dam was used to let boats in and out of the lock.  It was always deep in the center, but sometimes, near shore, you could walk out a number of feet and pick up stray clams in the mud. All the kids grabbed them a lot and then we’d put them in steaming water to see them open. Charlie was a big ole kid and we had a special bond.

Uncle Charlie had a brother named Buddy and he was an inventor. It was a lot of fun to see him on occasion- usually running into him at a store or something like that. He didn’t come out to the lake house and I didn’t know him well and never met any of his kids or grandkids.

Years later, after Uncle Charlie died, I was in law school in Birmingham, Alabama and met a guy in one of my classes named Jimmy Sandlin. I couldn’t resist asking him if he was from Florence, Ala. He said he was and I told him I had a great aunt named Lit who married a man named Charlie Sandlin and he had a brother named Buddy. I asked if he knew them.

He said he was Buddy’s grandson but I was wrong about his Uncle Charlie because his uncle was married to a woman named Marie. It was just so weird, I couldn’t believe it. I said, “I promise you, her name is Lit and it has to be the same person- how could it not be?”

Shrugging, he said, “What can I tell you? Uncle Charlie’s wife was named Marie. I swear.”

I went home and called my dad to find out exactly what Uncle Charlie had been up to with two wives. My dad laughed and laughed and when he finally got hold of himself, he said, “Her name is Lydia Marie and the family have always called her Lit.”

Man! Did I feel silly, but you know what? In all my life, I’d never heard her called anything but Lit.

The next day, I told my new friend we did indeed share a great aunt and, from then on, we called ourselves cousins-in-law.

How about you? Any stories about mistaken identity?

Here’s a picture of the two great aunts I’ll be on my friend’s blog talking about in October. Lit is the one in the seat and Hoovey (another one with a nickname as her real name was Louise) is the one on the arm of the chair.