Aunt Marge with baby Calvin
Here are some memories of Aunt Marge recorded by Andrew and read at her funeral:
• Swiss steak; Swedish meatballs with noodles; chicken with stuffing; breaded porkchops; tacos; strip steak; spaghetti on Fridays; your choice of peas, green beans or corn; cranberries from the can; and applesauce with brown sugar and cinnamon on top.
• Waking with a distinct thud against the wall followed by blinding light and Aunt Marge declaring “its time to get up.”
• Always trying to hunt down the elusive missing sock each and every laundry day.
• A road trip to Colorado with Aunt Marge, a horse trailer, and my dog Shania. She sat contently the whole way with her purse in lap.
• Sick days at home when I was a kid. Aunt Marge’s remedy was watching Price is Right, a glass of ice-cold 7-up, and a bowl of hot chicken noodle soup.
• Chris and Aunt Marge drove 9 hours up to Cody Wyoming in a little white station wagon to come see me one summer. We had lunch downtown at La Comida and watched the cowboys walk by.
• Crawling into bed with my parents when I was little. When they started locking me out, I moved down the hall to Aunt Marge’s room. When she started locking me out, I learned to pick the lock. She always let me stay.
• Feeding the dogs way too much.
• Having to be home at 4:30 every school day to walk Nugget. If you weren’t home at 4:30 there’d better be a good reason.
• All hats off in the house. I’d have a line of friends come through the door wearing hats and each and everyone one of them knew better than to wear a hat in our house.
• She made sure you had a special birthday dinner. A week in advance she’d ask you to put in your order. She never forgot a birthday.
• Reports on the weather. She always wanted to know how the weather was wherever you found yourself. And she’d fill you in on the weather back home.
• Big thanksgiving turkeys. I remember her proudly reporting on the poundage of the given year’s turkey. There were leftovers for a solid week
• We ate dinner at 6:30. Delays were occasionally tolerated if fair notice was given. But dinner was at 6:30.
• The fuzzy green swamp-thing full-body Halloween costume she made for me way back when. Brian had the corresponding werewolf suit
• Aunt Marge never wore a seat belt.
• Being picked up every Wednesday at 3:30 for 10 years to attend piano lessons. She’d always have two oreos and a juice box waiting.
• Brown toad, the blue buick, and the 93 lexus.
• Crossword puzzles.
• Nugget getting sprayed by a skunk again. Of all the cleaning products available, Aunt Marge and I ended up cleaning Nugget together with vast amounts of vaginal douche.
• Stories of a ranch she owned out in Montana back before I was born. The notion of that far distant place was one of the things that got my mind wrapped around the west from an early age.
• Crackers. She loved crackers and always fed the dogs crackers too.
• Publisher’s clearing house sweepstakes. She’s been in the running for the grand prize for at least the last 25 years.
• The only time I ever saw her cry – at my Grandma Boal’s funeral. I was 8 years old and it was that moment, seeing her cry, that I remember most of that day.
• Everyone knew her as Aunt Marge – the people at the bakery, the people at the doctor’s office, all my friends, delivery men, Jay the frozen meat guy…she was Aunt Marge.
• Going over to Harrisburg to get sticky buns. We’d wait in the car and when she’d come back with the goods the entire car would smell like heaven.
• She was old school. If you sassed her, which we knew to keep to a minimum, she wouldn’t hesitate to wrap you upside the head. At some point though I remember figuring out that I was a lot faster than her. So one particular time after sassing her, I
evaded punishment by running away and she continued to pursue me around and around the kitchen island.
• She was always the first voice on the end of the phone line. For the last 30 years 761-5791 connected you with Aunt Marge in no more than three rings
o I will miss her voice on the end of the phone line.
o I will miss being reminded to take my hat off when I walk through the door.
o I will miss the brown sugar and cinnamon on top of the applesauce. D’Ann tries but Aunt Marge always mixed it in just right.
o I will miss seeing her in her spot at the end of the couch, her purse on the counter, her books neatly stacked.
o I will miss hearing the wisdom of how she helped raise me and my brothers, and using that wisdom to help me raise my own children.
o I continue to miss her dinners at 6:30.
o I will miss the consistent, ever-dependable anchor she was to my life.
Marjorie Wright, Beloved Aunt MargeAugust 16th, 1917 - September 2nd, 2010
