A Special Visit at Christmas (and No, It's Not Santa)
I will never forget that my Aunt Elizabeth, whom we called “Auntee,” came to our house to celebrate every Christmas. As I think back, I believe her arrival was a bigger occasion for me than the arrival of Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. She would usually arrive two or three days before Christmas and stay a couple of days afterwards. I would usually be looking out the windows every few minutes when it was time for her to arrive so I could help her bring in her presents - and, to be honest, to find the ones for me. For the rest of her life, she would remind me that the first question I would ask was “When are you going home?” It was not because I wanted her to go home, but I wanted to know how long I would get to be with her.
While she was at home, she, my mother, and I would visit family cousins, usually older ones. I would actually look forward to these visits because they would share so many stories about the “old days.” Also, on Christmas Eve we would all gather around my mother at the piano and sing Christmas carols. My mother even had little carol books for us to sing from. Of course, we knew the first verses, but often not so much the others.
Auntee was the Regional Director of the TN Department of Welfare in East Tennessee. At that time, foster children were under their care. One Christmas, Auntee brought one of the foster children, Verlon, to our house for Christmas. He was five and I was four. I was counting the days because I was so excited about spending Christmas with another kid close to my age. (My only brother, Bob, was almost nine years older than me.) My mother and my aunt were a little concerned that I would be jealous of him with my aunt; but they told me, some years later, that he was jealous of me. I’m sure it wasn’t easy coming into a strange family to celebrate Christmas, but I truly hope it turned out to be a good experience. He was soon adopted and my aunt kept in touch with his mother, so for several years, we got reports about him growing up and ultimately getting married and having children.
I’ve always said that “everyone should have an Auntee!” My Auntee moved back to Lebanon after she retired so we got to be with her much more often than just Christmas and the two or three visits between Christmases. Auntee died in 2002 at the age of 91. Such good memories at Christmas and throughout the year. But every Christmas now, even with all the joy and good times and family, I usually experience one moment where I miss the excitement of someone special coming to spend a few days and nights at our house for Christmas.