One hot summer day at a family reunion, someone gave my great aunt a margarita and a water gun. She was in her late 80s. She knocked the drink back like it was Kool-aid. Then she drank another. Before the end of the day she was dancing on the picnic table in her Baskin-Robbins-esque polyester pant suit, squirting people with water.
Later she was playing a ball-toss game with a priest. He made a throw and missed the target altogether. Picture a woman in her late 80s, cradling her drink like Dean Martin, turning to the clergyman and saying, “IS THAT THE BEST YOU’VE GOT, HOLY BOY?” She trash-talked a priest. Then she squirted him with water. Then she went and got another margarita.
She taught us kids how to gamble, playing Royal Rummy for pennies at her kitchen table. She let us sip beer from little paper cups from as early as I can remember. She asked about our lives. She patiently listened to our response. She modeled faith in action, sending her prayers and her money to schools in South America, Africa, Native reserves, and inner city slums. She never had any children of her own, but man did she have a heart for them.
She also nearly killed us with her driving. The finer points of gentle acceleration and gradual braking were lost on her. When the light turned green she would pin it, and at the next red light she would hammer on the brake inches before the intersection. Naturally we kids loved this, being flung all over the car in the days before seatbelts.
She was hard of hearing. Even with hearing aids she SPOKE LOUDLY, her volume the same regardless of subject matter. Once she went to the hospital to visit a family member with an infection who would sit up in his bed, hallucinating and bathed in sweat, and yell about the rising river water. In walks my great aunt. She sizes up the situation and then randomly blurts, “LAST NIGHT MY UTERUS DROPPED, AND NOW I HAVE TO WIPE TWICE WHEN I TINKLE”. She honestly said that. At that moment said family member sat up and yelled, “Everyone get the hell out, the river’s flooding!” He honestly said that. You can’t make this stuff up.
They broke the mold with my great aunt. Last week she would have been 104. Happy Birthday dear one, and how we miss you!
[If you know someone else who might enjoy a lighthearted story to begin their week, kindly forward them the link to WordsfortheWeary. The more the merrier.]
And I can honestly say that I never thought I would read an article with the tag “Uterus Dropped”.
Another great read. Thank you!