 |
|
|
Memories of Aunt Dot By Lois Rich Email: lolo55 at alltel dot net (above email address formatted to reduce spam) February 28, 2008 When I think of Aunt Dot,several special people come to mind as well. She was the oungest of my dad's four siblings, so she was closest to our ages than the other aunts and uncles. She seemed like one of the kids. Her name was Dorothy B. Melton. I remember trying to find out what the "B" stood for...it was just an initial I was told. I guess it was like my grandfather's name, J. Guy Melton. He went by 'Guy' and said J was just an initial,but I always thought it must mean something! Most Sundays would find us driving the forty miles to attend church with my grandparents and gathering at their house for Sunday dinner with as many relatives as my grandfather could invite! Family was the most important thing to my gradparents so you had to have a pretty good reason for not being there! Meals were an event at Vera Mae Melton's table. There was a kids table, which was two card tables, end to end. We had duplicates of what was on the adults table. Our own salt and pepper shakers, dish of butter, and a dish of olives and pickles. The green olives nearly always disappeared by the time the call for dinner came. I think it was part of the plan, because Aunt Dot would appear to fill the dish just in time. She would even sit with us sometimes. It was said there were too many at the kitchen table, but she might have been sent to keep a little order. It could be a rowdy time when all twelve grandkids were there. My sister and I were the only girls, so with Aunt Dot with us, we didn't feel so outnumbered. Finally we were old enough to help with clean up. Uncle Bob, who went by his middle name, Lindell, would get an apron, stand at the sink with a suds pan, and a dishpan for rinse. He wanted one of us to bring him the dishes, and one to rinse. The object was to keep ahead of the dish dryers...to make them work hard he said! Grandma was led out of the kitchen multiple times, because she wouldn't stay in the livingroom as instructed. After dishes, most of us would gather in the second livingroom, as we kids called it. The only time people were in there was when Aunt Dot would play the piano. This room was like a family hall of fame, framed photos everwhere you looked. She quite often would invite my sister and me to sit on the piano bench on either side of her. We loved that for two reasons. We felt really special and we didn't have to sit next to those rowdy boy cousins on the sofa. She played mostly hymns, but would kick it up occasionally with sons like: In The Mood, or Rock Around The Clock. My grandmother disapproved of 'honky tonk music' so two was about all we could get away with. She played by ear, so if she had heard a song, most likely she would be able to play it. We would all sing to the best of our abilities, but Aunt Dot's voice was strong and kept us in tune. Many times she sang specials at church, and it wasn't unusual to see people with tears of joy in their eyes. She had a heart as big as Texas, and a wonderful sense of humor. She was also the one who tried to teach me to whistle. She didn't whistle openly, it may have been those things that only boys were allowed. I will never forget the way she would brush and put barretts in our hair and later on give us hair cuts and perms. We lived on a farm and maybe we were little tumbled tomboys. Things were really different when Aunt Dot returned from Nursing School in Berea, Kentucky. The family had grown up, some had moved to other states, or in the military. Ant Dot was a dedicated nurse and soon was a supervisor. She would dash off to work, no time for singing and laughter. Months would go by before we realized there had been a serious falling out between my grandparents and Aunt Dot. She had met a patient in the hospital, and when he was discharged, she began seeing him. The fact that he was as old as grandpa was making them distraught in a big way. When she married him, things got very tense. As a teenager at this time, the messages were confusing. Aunt Dot and I talked, and I was okay with it. He was single, she was single...end of discussion. She was blunt, so you always knew where you stood with Aunt Dot! Her husband, Jim, was in poor health, and only lived about three years. Aunt Dot is alone again. Most of her "twelve" had gone on to college, or gotten married. My contact with her became letters, long, newsy letters. I didn't see her often in the next twenty years because I was raising five children of my own in Western New York and she lived in Holland, Michigan. She would give her opinion and observations about my family life, and I didn't mind even though I didn't heed her advice. Aunt Dot was just being Aunt Dot. Meanwhile, she met a man at a church singing. Dave was years younger, and the family is in an uproar again. Poor Aunt Dot, I just wish everyone would mind their own business. Yes, she eventually married him. Again, he was single, she was single...end of discussion! I so looked forward to those fat letters. She would keep me updated and connected better than my own mother. After grandpa died, she had grandma living with her. Everybody looked to her as the family nurse, of course. Her letters would often begin with: Jeannie, get your cup of coffee..this will take a while! She always called me my my middle name. There it is again...our family's affinity for going my middle names. Someone once said it was grandpa's Tennessee roots. Funerals have a strange way of keeping family together. We started to lose several family members, but Aunt Dot was the family rock. She was in poor health herself by now but still taking care of others. Dave s heart attack was sudden. He died while on the operating table. Once again, Aunt Dot is alone... There are volumes more I could say about Aunt Dot, but I think my oldest daughter said it best when she at about age 12 or 13 said: "Mom, all of your family tlks a lot.....but Aunt Dot is the only one who listens." Aunt Dot passed on several years ago. I wish I could have told her, she was right, and I should have taken her advice now and then. Even leaving this earth, she left the family in an uproar. You see, she wrote her own final wishes: there was to be no funeral, she was to be cremated and her ashes to be spread in Holland Bay. She even had the foresight to delegate the persons to carry out her wishes, because those closest to her did not agree with cremation. She was Aunt Dot, and she did things her way. About the author: I am a 62 year-old mother of five, grandmother of three. I have the very best family and friends. I still stay connected by letters, mostly e-mail letters now. I enjoy volunteering with Lion's Club and Hospice in addtion to church activities. I am blessed, hope you are too. | | | |
First Person Archive Most recent: 2008 August July June May April March February January 2007 December November October September August July June May April March February January 2006 December September | |
 |
|
|
