Mom has two younger sisters, Lorna, the older of the two, and Sharon, the baby of the family. I have written about each of these remarkable ladies in this column on several occasions. Each one has had a unique influence on me, for which I am both blessed and grateful.
I have never thought about one of these women without the other two. They have always been a package deal, a tremendous threesome. Like the Three Stooges, you can’t have Larry without Curly and Moe. They are their own Rat Pack, like Frank, Dino, and Sammy. It has always been Donna, Lorna, and Sharon.
On June 22, that terrific trio became two. Aunt Lorna was doing what she did best, traveling the world. She could have given Auntie Mame lessons!
She was a pro at traveling all over the world and her motto was, “Pack it, then trash it.” She would pack items of clothing she intended to get rid of. Then, as her trips would near their end, she would leave these articles of clothing or accessories behind at the hotel and travel home carrying next to nothing! Now that’s pure genius! Once she had a hotel maid in Italy chase her down to return a pair of old shoes she had ditched.
Aunt Lorna had always wanted to stay at the Ritz Hotel in London, her favorite city in her favorite country to visit. She loved Great Britain and commended me for marrying an Englishman.
There, in that gorgeous setting, her true element, she fell, injuring her knee. The hotel doctor checked on her, since she had prior surgery on that knee. However, a silent killer, an embolism, formed and took her from us as she slept.
She would say, “Don’t cry for me, kiddo! I went while sleeping peacefully in a gorgeous bed in a glamorous hotel in the greatest city on earth!”
Aunt Lorna, the middle sister has always been what I consider to be the poster child for the words elegant, sophisticated, independent, charming, and wise. She has been, by far, the most methodical of the three sisters and the most practical.
In 1971, Mom asked Aunt Lorna to come along when she took me on a shopping quest in search of the perfect prom dress. I found just the one I wanted and waltzed out of the dressing room wearing a gorgeous, shimmery, and strapless gown.
“You are not wearing that to the prom, it’s too old for you,” Mom declared.
“I don’t know,” replied Aunt Lorna. “If she’s old enough to hold it up, she’s old enough to wear it.” See what I mean? Methodical and practical. I still didn’t get to buy that gown.
Mom and her sisters grew up poor. These three little girls didn’t have much in the way of toys, so they used their imaginations as they played in the woods near their parents’ farm in Spokane, Wash. Mom said they would gather pine cones to mark out the outlines of little houses, one for each of them. They then visited each other and held tea parties there in the woods.
The three girls had to share not just a bedroom, but a bed. Mom said they used to take turns sleeping in the middle, the prime spot. It was the warmest, especially on cold winter mornings. Plus, they gave each other back rubs, so the middle position was especially coveted!
However, Mom had no use at all for her little sisters when her high school friends came over for Saturday night get-togethers. The hi-fi played a constant set of songs by Elvis Presley, Fats Domino, Bill Haley and the Comets, the Big Bopper, and Buddy Holly. The gang danced and noshed on tuna sandwiches, chocolate cake, and coffee on the large farmhouse porch.
Meanwhile, on the balcony, Lorna and Sharon, having been banned from the festivities, plotted their payback. They each took a tinkle off the balcony onto Mom’s guests below. I have to say, I think Aunt Lorna was the genius behind that.
She married a strapping Norwegian and had three sons, all handsome boys who, in turn, gave her nine lovely grandchildren and six great-grandchildren. She doted on each and every one, and still had more than enough love left for her nieces and nephews.
She later married John Wilson, who was the love of her life and her best friend. Aunt Lorna once told me, “Don’t marry only for love and romance. Marry for friendship, too, because it is the most important part of a marriage.”
Uncle John was a big, funny, handsome guy who completely adored her. I was with them when he bought her wedding ring. He took her to a jewelers and she immediately fell in love with a ring with several diamonds in a large teardrop shape. But she refused to let him buy it because it was a “cocktail ring,” not a wedding ring.
Uncle John suggested that they think on it over some dinner. We went to a nearby restaurant and, as we sat down, he said, “I have to go back! I left my gloves on the counter at the jewelers.”
He asked her to order him something and left. A short while later he returned, gloves in one hand and a ring box in the other. He presented her with that gorgeous, tear-drop ring, saying, “A wedding ring is whatever you want it to be, Sweetheart.”
It was the most romantic gesture I had ever seen. I decided, then and there, that the man I married must meet the measure of my Uncle John’s thoughtfulness and caring. I am blessed to have met that man in my loving husband, Ian.
Aunt Lorna’s laughter was infectious and I adored her for it. I never felt better than when I was able to make her laugh so hard she couldn’t stop. A stickler for time, she hated being late. She used to remark that I would be late for my own funeral.
She would have laughed non-stop knowing how late she was for her own. Because she died in Great Britain, it has taken time to bring her home due to international regulations and paperwork.
When my mother’s husband, Clarence, passed in 1994, Aunt Lorna tearfully remarked that losing loved ones is like breaking a precious strand of pearls. You gather them up, clutch them tightly, and have them restrung close together again, but with one precious pearl missing. With each passing the strand grows shorter, unless you find more pearls in life through friendships and love, she said.
“You have to cultivate loving relationships,” she explained. “That’s why they are called cultured pearls.” I call that a valuable pearl of wisdom. God bless you, Aunt Lorna, and safe journey.
Ariel Waterman is cultivating her precious strand. Send your pearls of wisdom via Arts Editor Joe Payne at jpayne@santamariasun.com.
This article appears in Jul 21-28, 2016.