Sarah

I don't talk to her very often, maybe once a year or so, but every time I talk to my Aunt Sarah, I feel like I have just visited my entire family. It's a rich and full experience. Sarah is one of those phenomenal and precious people whom you can go months or even years without speaking to and then when you finally get around to it, it's like you were never apart. I love this about her. I am always comfortable talking with her.

Sarah was the youngest child of seven, born in 1927 to my grandfather, Joseph Ward, whom we called 'Pop', and grandmother, Mary Gough Ward, always referred to as 'Mom' (not to be confused with my own Mom). While Pop was born in this country (Ohio, I think) to English emigrants, Mom was born in England and emigrated along with a sibling or two in the early 20th century. My memory is very sketchy on the details. But I believe the story goes that the Gough and Ward families had known each other in England. At any rate, Joe Ward and Mary Gough married, at some point settled in Bicknell, Indiana and had seven children, including my mother. Pop was a coal miner and Bicknell was a booming coal town back in the day.

All the stories I ever heard Mom tell of her family were of how poor they were (she was always 'crying poor') and how very English they were. My mother was a total Anglophile and turned me into one from birth! I wish I could remember more of the stories she told. One I do remember is that they (she and her sisters) had no toys. They played with sticks and stones and leaves, she said. Sometimes they got very lucky and got a couple of empty cardboard boxes from the store. These they'd cut a big hole in the bottom of and put their legs through, then use an old plate or pot lid for a steering wheel and the box would become a car. Despite Mom's claim of being toyless, my Aunt Evelyn had a china-headed doll and there was an old wooden Felix the Cat, but I don't know which sibling he belonged to. I do not remember ever seeing another toy of any sort over at Pop's house, so Mom probably wasn't too far off the truth. Her point in telling me these things was for me to realize that I was fortunate, not take things for granted and to count my blessings.

Sorry for my not-unusual digression--back to my aunt. Something special to me about Sarah was that she lived in the same town we did. The rest of Mom's siblings were scattered all over and I never knew them, except for Sarah and Mary (who I wrote about in a post below). I've also mentioned Sarah in a much earlier post titled 'I Remember..' where I recall us going blackberrying. I went 'berrying' with Sarah quite a bit in the summers. Blackberries and strawberries. Once I remember she came in at the crack of dawn, woke me up, told me to put on something with long sleeves and away we went. The long sleeves were to keep the mosquitos off. And I remember her locking her car keys in the trunk of her car after loading it full of flats of strawberries. I loved these dawn excursions with her. She was a lot of fun.

Sarah's husband was Max. He was a bit of a character, full of sass, but a good man. He always called me 'Punkin'. Every single time we went to visit them, they both went out of their way to make me feel special. That wasn't something I got at home much, so I will treasure it dearly all my life.

I remember fish fries at Sarah's house--the house would be full of people and there would be all kinds of fish being fried. The best of all was the catfish. I learned to like fried oysters there, too.

I remember when I was 8 and Pop was dying. I had to go stay at Max and Sarah's for a couple of days. I was one of those mouth-breathing kids in the winter so I would get the most horrible chapped lips. Actually, it was beyond chapped lips. It was chapped and scabby all the way up to my nose, looked like a big brown mustache and was tight and burned. All I wanted to do was rip my lip off but all I could do was keep licking it to keep it moist. Which chapped it even more. I was in chapped lip hell and it was miserable. Max took one look at that mess and asked me if Mom or Dad had ever put anything on it. Embarrassed, I shook my head no and off he went. I didn't bother to tell them that Dad had threatened to put chicken poop on it if I didn't stop licking it. Max was back in two shakes with a tube of this amazing miracle stuff that he smeared all over my scabby upper lip. Omigosh, the instant relief! I can't begin to tell you how good it felt! It was magic!  It was a Chapstick. I'd never even heard of it till that day but have not gone without a Chapstick since.

Sarah and Max rescued me another time too. One summer, I developed a very painful and large boil about 2 inches directly below my navel. Gross, right? Again, I was spending the night at their house for some reason or other and was bunked on their couch. I must have shown this nasty boil to Sarah, who showed Max and moments later, they smeared some terrible-smelling black and tar-like drawing salve on it and bandaged me up. Another medical miracle, the boil was gone in another day or so.

I laugh now when I think about it but all I can say is that when I'd get these assorted childhood maladies, I had learned to keep mum about whatever it was. Otherwise, Mom would administer some foul treatment or other that was usually quite painful and would be accompanied by scolding, not kindness. Mom's cures and harangues were usually way worse than whatever ailment I had.

There was and still is something so comforting and loving about my Aunt Sarah. As much as I dearly loved my Aunt Mary, I love Sarah just as much and in many ways, I feel even closer to her.  Maybe because she was only 26 when I was born. Practically still a girl! She's 88 now, sharp as a tack and I'll tell you what--she still is that beautiful young aunt that she was when I was a little kid.

Sarah, I just want you to know how very much I love and appreciate you and have ever since I was little. You'll always have my heart.

Till next time,

"Aunt ― a double blessing. You love like a parent and act like a friend." ~ Unknown