A Gift of Memories

Aunt Alma’s Lid

            My Aunt Alma and Uncle Dominick gave us a lovely soup tureen as a wedding present. It was so beautiful, that I kept it “for best” for about thirty years. “For best” didn’t happen very often, so the tureen spent most of its time in my china cabinet. Until one day when I took it out, filled it with hot soup, and dropped it on the floor. It shattered into dozens of pieces. I looked at the mess forlornly bereft at the loss of such a beautiful serving dish. All that was left was the lid.

           

Breaking that tureen turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened in my kitchen. I found that the left-after lid fit on many of my every-day dishes. I use it almost every day now. And each time I use it, I think about Aunt Alma and Uncle Dominick.

           

Aunt Alma and Uncle Dom took my brother Joseph and me in while my parents drove across country after my father was diagnosed with cancer. We were living in Seattle and he needed to get to New York for treatments fast. They sent us on a plane ahead while they packed up our house and drove across country so that we wouldn’t miss any school days. We arrived jet-lagged and frightened. Uncle Dominick met us at the gate and took us home.

           

Aunt Alma welcomed us with open arms and we became a part of their family which included my two cousins, Peter and Stephen. I was the only girl. Aunt Alma did the best she could to mother this persnickety eight-year old with very definite ideas about meals, bedtimes, and hair-cuts. She made me tuna sandwiches with vinegar, not mayo, agreed to a later bedtime (since I was a whole year older than Joseph and Stephen), and tried to understand the tears that a little girl can weep when her hair doesn’t look just right.

As main cook and bottle-washer in the house, Uncle Dom couldn’t understand why Joseph disliked all vegetables except spinach -- and only because Popeye ate it. He offered Joseph a deal. Try one pea the first night, two the next, etc. until Joe would eat a whole serving. Joe complied and after his final full-serving, announced that he still didn’t like peas. Uncle Dom gave in gracefully and helped Joseph stay “strong to the finish” by cooking him his spinach.

I can imagine the anguish Uncle Dom must have suffered worrying about his brother driving across country to face cancer treatments. I can imagine the challenge of mothering two frightened children dropped on your doorstep. A traumatic situation, yet we felt safe and happy for the eight weeks we spent with them.

           

Every time I use that lid, I think about their love and care. I remember Uncle Dom coming to comfort me when I felt sick or lonely in the night. I remember Aunt Alma buying me a new birthday watch when mine got smashed in a drawer. I remember Uncle Dom encouraging us to voice our opinions about weighty subjects at the dinner table and Aunt Alma nurturing our imaginations as we planned trips to Mars and wished on twinkling stars.

           

That lid brings back many happy memories. It has also taught me a few life lessons. Don’t save gifts “for best.” Use them often and remember the givers. Share family stories with your children. Help your family. Stay close with letters and phone calls.

Uncle Dom has left us, but Aunt Alma, now in her early nineties, continues to “mother” me from a distance. Their love and caring were two of the best gifts I ever received and my memories of them can never be shattered.