Aunt Pete's Departure

Our Aunt Pete was a romantic, young girl. She spent long hours searching for four-leaf clovers with her suitors on their afternoon picnics which were often held as close by as our own front yard. My brother, Charles, and I at 3 and 4 years old, would often be included. Once Charles, in a show of possessiveness, squirted down one of her squires with a garden hose. Over the course of her high school days, Pete dated only one or two other boys besides the one she later married -- Johnny. She and he were meant for each other. He often told the story of his first glimpse of her and of saying to himself, "That's the girl I will marry." He admired her like she was a fine, porcelain doll. They became great dance partners, doing the Lindy Hop and swing dancing at a local Atlanta bandstand. Among the dancers, Johnny was known as "Rubber Legs" because he was so limber. His dance moves seemed akin to one of those little rubber band-hinged novelty toys that collapse when you push the button on the bottom and pop back into place when it is released. Johnny and Pete were one of the golden couples through high school and they planned to marry soon after Aunt Pete graduated.

Johnny was offered the opportunity by a family member to learn about the boating industry documenting and insuring merchandise arriving on boats in the harbors in Texas. He went ahead and began to learn about the industry from the family friend known as Captain Wynn. For a short time after high school, Pete worked at the downtown Sears store and almost exclusively her income went toward preparing for a dream wedding which was documented in an album that remained at our house after her departure. Her scrapbook of mementos including movie ticket stubs, car hop numbers from the Varsity, Valentine's and birthday cards, photos and invitations, also remained, and spent many hours in my teen-aged lap as I swooned over the romantic life she had immortalized in it.

On the day her wedding arrived, I was unable to go due to a full blown case of the chicken pox. Only weeks before, my brother had been sick. My mother and grandmother had originally thought it might be his dread of Pete's leaving that was making him feel unwell. That turned out not to be the case, and after another week it was me that couldn't get out of bed.

Before leaving for Houston, where she would be settling in as a newly wed, Pete made sure that we knew she wouldn't forget us by treating us to a long car ride, Johnny driving while she sat in the back seat spending time with us. I still recall her comforting me as I toyed with the decorations on her purse. Part of her going away ensemble, the purse was a sturdy white patent leather one with a gold hinged closure that snapped closed at the top. It was decorated with multi-colored straw flowers woven through a white thread crocheted background on each side. The bag was exceptionally nice looking to my child's eyes. It had a scattering of brushy bumble bees attached to each of it's flowers. My aunt took several of them off that day to leave with me as a remembrance and as a small distraction from the goodbye.

Oh how we would miss her those first weeks after she left, asking my mother and grandmother many times for the songs she had sung to us at bedtime. Later we all would look forward to receiving news of her new life in Texas from the letters which she wrote no less often than once every two weeks, over the next 15 to 20 years.