People have been calling me Peaches for many years, but Aunt Peaches is new. When my niece Abigail was born last December, it felt like I had been waiting for her since I was a child. Isn’t that strange?
Being an Aunt is a big deal for me. I’m sure a lot of you are Aunts and Sisters and Mothers and Grandmothers and Caregivers and Brothers and Daughters and Sons and Spouses…the list goes on as long as you like, but the point I make is that everyone is special to somebody. You are special to somebody. I am special to someone else. That 19-year-old guy who cut me off in his Ford Bronco yesterday afternoon, that Buttmunch with Attitude, is somebody’s baby. Somebody’s brother. Somebody’s friend. To somebody, he is special.
In the world of somebodies and specialness, the relationship between Aunt and niece is particularly sacred to me. In my life, Aunts have always been a source of comfort, guidance, encouragement, and, sometimes, a swift kick to the rump when I needed it most. And Aunts certainly don’t need to be related either. As soon as title is issued, the relationship is sealed: Y’all are family.
They say it takes a village to raise a child…truer words have never been spoken. My Mom died when I was pretty young and it was a village of Aunts who picked up the pieces. Some of them were my parent’s sisters, but most where good friends and neighbors who became as close as family, if not closer. These women would swoop into my life one afternoon at a time and teach me life’s most important lessons; everything from driving instructions, to cooking lessons, to sewing projects, to embarrassing visits to the doctor and the ladies underwear department.
Most of these women were busy with lives and families of their own. I rarely saw any one of them more than once every few weeks, but, whatever time we spent together, they packed in as much love and learning as possible. They knew I didn’t have a mother and wanted to pack their motherly wisdom into every minute we shared. In this regard, I consider myself extremely fortunate. Don’t get me wrong, losing your Mom sucks, but the way I see it, my life lessons came to me like one of those Church fundraiser cookbooks…you know, where every member of the congregation contributes two or three of their very best lessons….Mr. Johnson’s Famous Crab Dip and Sheriff Trotters House Seasoning and Amy Caldwell’s Banana Bread…a diverse collection of the very best formulas for success. There’s no back-of-the-box recipes in those cookbooks, just thoughtful, time-tested, quality stuff. Yes, those books are always scattered, and sloppy, and sometimes the spelling is laughable, but I tell you one thing; the food is Damn Good.
But I digress. One day I’ll write a post on Why People are Like Cookbooks …another time…back to the Aunts….
Some of the Aunts never had time, or maybe they felt too awkward to hang out one-on-one. Instead they would drop stuff off on our doorstep, usually with a lovely note.
I was baking nut bread and thought you might enjoy some. Call anytime.
Random gifts of food are a pretty normal thing when someone dies, especially when it comes to a new widower/single father…but after months passed, the gifts turned from food to more random items; jumbo packs of socks, hand soap, school supplies, etc..
There was a double coupon in the paper on plastic forks this morning so I picked up extra. We won’t use them, I’ll just save you the trip. Call anytime.
It’s not like my Dad couldn’t afford to buy us stuff, it just made them feel good. They slept better at night knowing our household paper towel supply was taken care of. As I got older, the Aunts started dropping stuff off specifically for me. Teenage years are awkward for all girls, and they wanted to be sure I didn’t end up confused and misguided. One time my dad opened the front door to find a small shopping bag on the stoop. It was tampons. Think that’s embarrassing? You should have seen the note Aunt Laura left on it.
Wanted to be sure you had some of these around the house. Let me know if you need any help with instructions. Call anytime.
FOLLOWED BY A HAND DRAWN DIAGRAM.
The way my dad dropped that bag you would think it contained a severed head. God Bless Aunt Laura.
My favorite doorstep gifts always came from Aunt Dooney, a generous and eccentric woman with a penchant for story book sweaters two sizes too small. Even in her 50s she could stop traffic with her good looks. The lines around her mouth and eyes indicated a history of happiness, struggle, and a fondness for tanning beds. She grew up dirt poor and married her high school sweetheart at age 15, Boon. They lived on a shoestring for many years, until one day in the late seventies when Boon found the shell of a Motel 6 Jacuzzi tub down at the dump. He strapped it in the back of a flatbed truck, filled it with water and his beautiful wife, then drove around town with a sign that read $5 WATER RIDES ON WHEELS.
Ten years later they owned a fleet of limousines and the biggest house on the block. The American Dream.
Aunt Dooney quit working 60+ hours a week as a waitress and stayed home as a lady of leisure. She took up tennis down at the country club and watched soap operas as if it were her job. As the World Turns was her favorite. She was never seen without lipstick and pastel pearls. Despite their new found wealth, Aunt Dooney still shopped like she was living hand-to-mouth. It was Aunt Dooney that taught me how to clip coupons and only buy on sale. She filled their massive home with second hand furniture and thrift store finds. She didn’t have any kids of her own and was quick to spoil me and the many other children lucky enough to know her. Because she knew how much I loved playing dress up, she started buying me $5 bridal gowns in kindergarten. As I got older the thrift store dresses kept coming. Even when I was way-too-mature for Halloween costumes. She’d find a stained quilt or a tattered leather coat and drop it off with a note…
This was too good of a deal to pass up! Tear it apart and put it back together. Now go make something pretty!
When I was 17, Aunt Dooney left a package on our door that looked a little different. Her gifts came from the thrift store and usually came delivered in a paper bag, clean but rumpled with little ceremony or expectation. This one was in a handled shopping bag with lavender tissue peeping up. It was unusually large. I recognized the handwriting as soon as I opened the note;
I know you are used to secondhand, but prom is coming up and I wanted you to have the very best. I saw it in the store and knew it was made for you. It will look so beautiful. I can’t wait to see you in it!
It was a dress. A giant, peach, ruffled prom dress. We are talking Melanie Hamilton-Wilkes Style Big Ass Dress.
Now, Peaches is my family nickname, and plenty of people, even those who don’t call me Peaches directly somehow associate me with the color peach. Today I love it, but then, I hated it. Passionately. And even if that dress had been a different color, there is no way in hell I was going to be seen wearing it to my prom. I would like to tell you that if I had to do it over again, I would be mature enough to suck it up and wear it, but no. I don’t think I could do it. Some things are just never going to change.
Aunt Dooney was such a sweetheart and I knew it would break her heart if I didn’t wear it. I told my Dad and cried and pretended it was eating me up inside, when really, I just wanted to make sure I got the dress I wanted. You know what he did? He made the ultimate sacrifice. He lied for me. He called Aunt Dooney and told her he had already bought me a dress a long time ago, and as lovely as this dress is, he could see it cost a pretty penny and should probably go back to the store.
I guess he just assumed she would drop by and pick it up, but she didn’t. A week went by, that dress stood in the hall. Made me sick with guilt every time I saw it. I hid it in the closet. When nearly a month had passed, my Dad started pestering me to take it over before it could no longer be returned. I ignored him. One day he picked me up at the mall and I saw that shopping bag with the lavender tissue sitting in the back seat. I knew we were making a stop on the way home.
This was a big deal. My dad never told me to do anything I didn’t want to do. Prior to that moment, I can only think of two occasions when he said no to me and both involved dessert. And he wondered where my crazy sweet tooth came from?
But today wasn’t about dessert. It was about doing the right thing. This woman had been looking out for me for years and I was not going to be rotten towards her, not if he could help it. He couldn’t force me to wear the dress, but he was going to make sure I didn’t sweep the dress under the rug, my relationship with Aunt Dooney going with it.
Aunt Dooney’s house was old colonial. Very traditional, except for two cement bunny statues on either side of the door. Like long eared foo dogs with teeth. She named them, and I can’t remember what, but it had something to do with evil twins on As the World Turns.
My Dad pulled up in the driveway and turned off the motor, reached across to my door to pull the handle. I knew that move. This was his way of saying, Sorry kiddo, you are doing this one your own.
Of course, my plans to leave it on the doorstep was dashed when she saw me on the steps. She greeted me with the same, warm, loving hug she had always given me. One of those hugs where you squeeze the other person like a teddy bear and sway from side to side for a minute and say when did you get so big?! Ooooooo you smell so good, I just want to bottle it up!
While bottling one’s smell was creepy, the hug helped. The pit in my stomach dissipated. All was good.
We talked for a minute or two and then I said I had to run, Dad was in the driveway, I just wanted to drop off the dress. It was so generous of you to do that, and I’m so sorry I’m not going to get a chance to wear it.
I’ll never forget the look on her face. It deflated like a punctured pool toy. Her voice changed as she looked down on the ground and muttered something about Don’t worry, I’m just glad you got it covered, it’ll get used another time, no big deal.
Have you ever talked to someone when the words in their mouth don’t match the look on their face? It’s awkward. It’s especially awkward when you know someone is doing that to appease you. Yes you, the 17-year-old Buttmunch with Attitude. I puttered around for a minute then excused myself and walked to the car, my tail between my legs.
Prom came and went and I don’t even remember what I wore. I think it was black with feathers. Does it matter? No.
I recently got wind that Aunt Dooney past away following a lengthy battle with cancer. Apparently she had been teetering on the edge for months, but was determined to hang in long enough to watch the final episode of As the World Turns. You know, I hadn’t seen her in ten years, maybe more…but in the back of my mind, I think of her every time I go into a thrift store. I think of her every time I see a soap opera or clip coupons. I think of her when I see ladies wearing sweaters two sizes too small and when someone gives me a good long bear hug. I think of her when a young, exhausted waitress takes the time to look me in the eye and smile. I think of her and I smile too.
Now she is gone and I will never get a chance to show her that peachy prom dress. This necklace isn’t going to make up for what has past, but it’s a lovely, happy reminder of a lovely, happy lady.
Whoooooooweeeeeeee…for such a simple necklace this sure was a long post. Thanks for letting me ramble. Sometimes, when someone leaves us, it’s a small comfort to channel our sadness into something creative. It also feels good to take a minute to sing their praises from the mountain tops. Guess this blog is my new mountain top. Thanks again 🙂
Now go make something pretty!
You just reduced me to tears, because I too had a lovely aunt in my life, and I too was a 17 year old buttmunch with attitude.
She is gone, but I salvaged some of her stuff.
I will make an Aunt Ruth necklace. And I will smile while making and wearing it.
thanks for this post, I loved it!
Here’s to all aunts out there.
omg that story was so sad! you are the best story teller, really 🙂 whether it’s funny or sad you get a strong reaction out of me. I love it 🙂 That necklace is beautiful! I will have to see what I have on hand to make it.
Weepy over here too. The necklace is very pretty, and so was the post. Thanks for sharing on both accounts.
aunt peaches. condolences for the loss of this special person. she made a terrific impact, that is for certain, as do those who are important to us. we see it in the way you write and create, and all i can say is: “thank goodness for aunt dooney!”
ok forget the ADORABLE necklace – I’m in tears over here……. you have such a way with words…
OMGoodness, Yall I didn’t want to make anyone cry!!!!! I am so sorry. Never my intention. Honest.
You know, I like to indicate my source of inspiration on any piece make…I sat down to write a quick blip on Aunt Dooney’s prom dress and it turned into a lengthy confession session. Sometimes you don’t realize how much something meant to you until it’s gone 🙁
I think Lisbonlioness said it best —here is to all the aunts out there!
The Polka Dot Closet
LWhat a great story! The tampax and your dads reaction hysterical! She meant well! Your neck lace is lovly. Stop over and say hi
Here I am sitting in France, crying away over your lovely story. Yours will be one blog that I will now always make sure I read rather than just skim quickly. Thank you for making something special in my day.
A beautiful post, Peaches! Your entire village of aunts amazes me. The necklace is gorgeous, and says, “I am the creative person I am because of Aunt Dooney and all the other Aunties in my life.”
This was a beautiful post, Peaches! And, as always, I’m now wanting to go recreate your work. Just beautiful!
misting up in minnesota…what a lovely story and a fantastic project to go with it….
Wow. This story made me cry for two reasons: 1. it’s just plain sad, and 2. despite growing up with a fantastic mother, I can’t help but feel as if I missed out on the experience of having a miriad of honorary aunts.
Thanks for telling this story, and the necklace is beautiful.
best story ever! i lost my mom 10 years ago and i’ve been wondering how to incorporate my mom’s wedding dress & a few strands of her pearls in my wedding. i think i just found the answer. THANK you for sharing this story & amazing tutorial.
wonderful story and amazing necklace! thanks so much for sharing your heart and your creative talents on Craft Schooling Sunday, it’s such an honor! xoxoxoxo Sara
You my dear should write a book. Life is too real. We all seem to have a story of our own, and i have discovered, since our own family’s sad story, that humanity has much in common. The love of those who care is the most important thing in the world. Thanks for sharing. Delightful to read in the middle of the night in california, even with the tears.
Peaches–this story is absolutely beautiful. I’m new to your blog and have fallen in love with it already. Thank you for baring your soul, sharing your stories and sharing the things these stories inspire you to create! I look forward to reading more and more like this. Much love from a fellow crafty recyclist :]
Wow! Just discovered your blog today and I am overwhelmed by your craft skills and your heart! Thank you for sharing so much in each post!
found your site on del.icio.us today and really liked it.. i bookmarked it and will be back to check it out some more later
Terrific work! This is the type of information that should be shared around the web. Shame on the search engines for not positioning this post higher!
Superb blog post, I have book marked this internet site so ideally I’ll see much more on this subject in the foreseeable future!
found your site on del.icio.us today and really liked it.. i bookmarked it and will be back to check it out some more later
wow!!!! I loved your story. Cant wait to finish looking at your blog, check my website out, I am just fixing to start a blog, you inspired me to give me some ideas, Amy
I randomly came across your blog and you have the best humor and cutest blog. ever. 🙂
Ditto on all the kudos; another excellent read, Peaches. I laughed, I cried! But HOLD UP– a hand drawn diagram?? Of what? I can’t help but wonder… as if the diagram in the instructions wouldn’t be clear enough? So many questions. But ALSO? $5 water rides on wheels??? 1.) How did that work? 2.) and they really got rich off that? and 3.) please tell me this happened in Florida, the weirdest place on earth! I enjoyed the heck out of this piece– the tutorial of that gorgeous necklace was only icing in the cake!
As I sit here reading every word……..thinking back..to my senior prom….I was living with my aunt and uncle…… there was no money for a dress in 1959..my aunt went into her closet and found. A beautiful dress for me to wear..I was all of 82 pounds. And I was a happy teenager……thanks aunt millie
Just stumbled across your awesome website and had a good cleansing cry reading this blog. I was reminded of my Aunt Eunice who will forever be remembered for her dollar store jewelry, homemade treats, and unconditional love.
Good god almighty heavens above…. It’s 2:14 am and I’m taking a quick naughty smoke break from ironing the sons clothes for scholl so he can be his Rico sauve self… Just jumped on to see what auntie peaches was up too…. Well now that I’m drenched in my own tears of rememberance of a similar situation only dealing with my snotty 21 year old fashion plate self I thought I was…..my gramma…. Whom her passing is very fresh in my heart and I’m still grieving… My heart is in tiny little sunflower petals on the floor being stomped on by the memory of how I did the same thing to a woman that helped raise me on a small working farm in the middle of nowhere Kansas… I digress…. Well anywho, I was set to be married to my now very ex husband… Too young I was… And gramma wanted me to
Wear this strand of ugly ( what I thought were at the time) what looked like paste jewlery… Well I stuck my nose so far up my own behind in gross detest because I had already purchased a bling bling necklace and earring set that was cheap and matched my taste and dress…. Well… Hmppppp…. That old lady gave me this cheap looking necklace to wear and oh my god… It wasn’t good enough for me, no sirreeeee bob! Didn’t sparkle that way I wanted… I used the excuse that since she waited until a day before the wedding that I was all set so I wouldn’t be needing it but thanks gramma all the same…. I didn’t give it much thought until I could tell something was bothering her( she was stubborn as the day was long and would and could hold a grudge, grammas wrath was public knowledge and not to piss her off) well I brushed it off, making myself feel better by saying it’s my day I’ll do what I want…. Fast forward to today, as I’m
Sitting here, still not able to go thru all the many jewlery boxes that were left to me… I know that necklace is in one of those boxes and when I finally pull it out and touch it I’m
Going to loose it… I found out later that it was actually a piece her mother gave her and it was Aurora borealis, not a cheap piece at all. Her mother had worn it, she had worn it and then she never let my
Mother have it but held onto it for my wedding day…. When I found out years later what I had done….. Well you know… You must have felt the same way… I was so ashamed of myself and never got the chance to tell her I messed up… Sorry gramma I was a dumb little jerk…. So I guess in sorts I’m telling her now that I’m mortified that I was a spoiled brat and shame on me. I think we all have these life lessons that we reflect on when a loved one has gone ” over yonder”
As gramma would say….. But sometimes you can’t just say oh well, too little, too late….. Because LATE always comes to collect on the too LITTLE….. Xoxoxo
Isn’t it odd how a piece of jewelry or clothing can trigger a world of memories? Thanks Jess.