Aunt Betty

Every young man is intimidated the first time he goes to his girlfriend’s home to meet the father. Mothers are always forgiving and trusting. The father always looks more critically at the young man, evaluating, testing, and probing with questions. Jim was gentle in his assessment, and took his time in reaching a conclusion, at least showing it outwardly. I think I had already passed the test with Jim after our first meeting, been accepted, but it took time to reach a level of trust. I was graciously welcomed into the family, included in family affairs, invited to family functions. Anxiety turned into familiarity, and then comfort.

I was invited to a fireman’s picnic at Como Park. Walking around with Lisa I met many of the men, the volunteers that worked with Jim. Everyone was cordial, everyone knew the oldest of Jim’s daughters, and was glad to see her. When I got up to get us some sodas, I walked alone across the damp grass to the laundry tubs filled to the brim with ice. The cans were so cold my fingers hurt like it was January and I was waiting for the school bus in Grandy’s driveway. I turned to confront three, burley, slightly inebriated firemen, blocking my return, giving me the serious stare.

“You better be good to Lisa.” said one, the others nodding. The speaker came over, put me in a headlock, gently. “If I hear differently, you’re gonna’ hafta’ deal not only with us, but with this whole department. You understand?” I nodded as best I could cause I couldn’t speak with his forearm under my jaw. I tried to say, “Yes, sir” but all I could hear was “yesssshhhur.” I was released, unharmed, a little shaken. The other two came over, put their arms around my shoulders and proceeded to squeeze my shoulder blades into my neck. “You do understand, don’t you?” said one, the other just smiled and squeezed harder. My fingers were numb with cold. I meekly said, “Yes.” The smiler said “I think he means it.” and I was released once again. The sweat at my temples and the trickle running down my spine had less to do with the moist summer air than I let on.

“Come with us to Holley!” Lisa invited one day. “Meet my Aunt Betty and Uncle Don and all my cousins.” I already knew two of the three sisters on her Mom’s side, so thought this would be a completion. We rode through the rural farmland; farther than I would have guessed. We pulled into the driveway, drove up the little hill and parked. As our clan disembarked, their clan streamed out of the house. I was suddenly engulfed in a sea of relatives, the only stranger. I was introduced, too many names to remember. It was awkward, I felt awkward, felt like this was going to be a long day spent with strangers, under a microscope. Uncle Don came over, smiled at me and laughed, shook my hand as he introduced himself and said he was glad to meet me. I felt a little relief. Then came Aunt Betty.

Now, I know that I was taller than her, but she came at me with determination. Her voice boomed and thundered, her eyes sparkled, her teeth were bared in a broad smile. “And who’s this?” The sky seemed to part, lightening bolts rained down from the heavens, I looked up at this huge woman towering above me as I withered under her calculating, measuring gaze. She was loud, and I was shrinking.

Meeting Dad for the first time and my encounter with the firemen were minor events compared to this woman. I was unprepared, given no warning, I was caught off guard. Maybe I was warned, but not enough. Maybe nothing could have prepared me for this meeting. I wandered around the house, on my best behavior, watching my manners, trying to avoid the intensity of her scrutiny. I went outside, walked over to the above ground pool. The cool of the evening crept across the farm fields as I cupped the water and dusk slowly enveloped the east. I wandered back towards the house, feeling compelled to make small talk with the cousins, something I was totally inept at and fully aware of.

“Here,” boomed the voice, catching me off guard again. I stared up to the doorway to see Aunt Betty holding a grocery bag full of fresh corn. “Make yourself useful for supper, shuck this corn.” I dutifully grabbed the bag and sat down on the steps. I shucked all the corn, making sure I got all of the silk off of the ears. I felt relief at having something to do, something to concentrate on, something to help. The bag was shucked in record time, I believe. I ran it into the kitchen, and ran out again.

We sat down for supper, a huge, happy family. I looked up and down the table, everyone talking, jabbering away, passing plates of corn, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, broccoli, lima beans (yuck), and squash. I soaked it all in, the smells, the noise, the laughter, the excitement, and the conversations going every which way. I realized a feast is not measured by the quantity of food at the table, but by the love and joy in the air. I studied each of the faces, listened to snippets of animated conversation, mesmerized by this huge family (mine was small and quiet). I looked down the table to see Aunt Betty quietly, intently studying me. We locked eyes and I saw a softness and a gentility there, an acceptance and an approval. She was absorbing a life moment just as I was. In that instant we saw each other’s souls and became forever entwined.

The conversations faded, people slipped away and the room became calm. The kitchen now became the focal point. I stood up and started grabbing dishes, silverware and glasses, clearing the table, making myself useful. With the last load deposited near the sink, Aunt Betty looked up at me, and smiled. “I’m glad you came, Kevin.”

As we were making our way to our cars, saying our goodbyes, Aunt Betty came to me, opened her arms and gave me a big hug. “You’re welcome here anytime; promise me you’ll come back.”

I was tall again.

Life's Lessons

I first met Coach W at Lincoln Elementary, the 5th grade. He was our gym teacher. Just recently moved from inner city Buffalo, I knew no one, and was intimidated by the class bully. Coach was teaching wrestling in the fall. We were all sitting around the mats when he asked for volunteers - not a single hand went up. So he decided to start pairing us. The first pair he called was the bully and ME! How humiliating to be defeated in front of all the boys. He blew his whistle and we started wrestling. I ended up pinning the bully, to my own and everyone else's astonishment. I remember being surrounded by the other boys, cheering and slapping me on the back - it was a Wonder Years moment. As I walked off the mat I looked at Coach. He was smiling at me, eyes sparkling, silently telling me to believe in myself and to tap into the strength I didn't even know I had. In that moment I was no longer afraid, would never be afraid again of the bullies of the world.

Several years later, in the high school, when 7th and 8th grades were on the first floor, he invited me to try out for the Freshman Basketball team after a stellar intramural session. We went 0-12 that year, but it taught me a very important lesson - winning isn't everything! How you handle loss and defeat, picking yourself up, analyzing what you could have done better, working on correcting your deficiencies, holding your head up, and getting back into the game, giving it your best effort is what really counts. There is no disgrace in defeat if you did your best. At the end of the season Coach came up to me, put his hand on my shoulder, and hoped that I would be back next season. I was, we went 1-11 my freshman year under Coach H. Our combined record for 2-years was 1-23. My sophomore year, in JV with Coach H, we won our league, beating Lancaster, Cheektowaga, and St. Mary's (by 1 point, on their court) in the final three games. And there was Coach W on the sidelines with those smiling, warm eyes, looking proudly at me, patting me on the back. Another lesson learned - persistence.

What I learned from this quiet, gentle man has served me well in life - dignity, respect, sportsmanship, compassion, persistence, and dedication. I never told him in words, I let my eyes do the talking.