The section below was written in Dec 2019. I had plans to add to it however, today is not the day.
I’ve been asked to put some thoughts together for my great aunt Els. As I write this, her health is in decline and we anticipate her passing. That’s hard to write – strange since it is an anticipated event (her health has been of concern for several years). I’ve not spoken to Auntie Els for many months, possibly even a year. Last time we spoke, it was over the phone and she struggled to know if she was talking to me or my mum – however, she was still the same … interested, to the point, and short of time.
Auntie Els was a minor celebrity in my life – she lived in New York, she flew around the world, she had a prominent career, she sent us postcards from all over the globe, and was very glamorous. In New York, she was an actual celebrity however, here in Australia and among her family, she was Auntie Els. She was a source of fun – when Els was in town we would be doing something whether going out to dinner, off to see a show, or the entire family (and there were many of us) just being together.
Last night, I looked through my collection of photos looking for pictures of Els being with us. Initially it felt like a chore however, as I flicked through the very many pictures, I was overwhelmed with the many instances that I had caught on camera of the love Els felt for us. Els loved family but children especially. There are candid pictures of her with her nieces and nephews, her great nieces and nephews and her great, great nieces and nephews – holding them, hugging them, being close to them.
Another time, I will write about Els’s youth and her life in general but today, I’m going to remember the 4 years between 2003 and 2007 that my little family were based in New Jersey and we were able to pop over the river and visit.
In 2003, we were living in Shanghai and my husband was seconded to New Jersey for 3 months. Off we went with our 12-month-old for an adventure. New Jersey was strange to me and New York City at times seemed overwhelming. I was a new mum with no supports, trying to entertain herself and a 1 year old. Auntie Els was a touch point of home – someone who I could visit and just ‘be’. Auntie Els was no fuss and, like all my family in general, didn’t have time for wallowing in self-pity. There was empathy and an ear to hear however, once the feelings have been let out … time to move on and get on with it.
Auntie Els was an organiser and a born delegator – qualities that more than likely made her brilliant at her job. When we would visit, she would get Chuck to organise drinks, get me to set out the food, eat, chat, play with the kids, chat and “let’s go for a walk”. It doesn’t sound very relaxed but it was. Her apartment was incredibly tiny, tidy and full of beauty – books, her tapestry, throws, beautiful bowls full of beads. Her unit was a neurotic mother’s worst nightmare. Thankfully I was not a neurotic mum and yet there were times of immense tension as my daughter (and later my son) would waddle and teeter amongst the delicate furniture, ceramic plates and ‘everything’ as Els said it was fine even when it clearly wasn’t.
Auntie Els was eccentric at times. For instance, when she would let my two-year-old play with her make-up. Auntie Els had small built-in wardrobe full of make-up, jewellery and every mother’s nightmare. So Els said it was ‘ok’ to leave the two-year-old, unsupervised, to ‘play’ in this cupboard. Amy was allowed to sit on a chair and pretend she was the Queen of Sheba to her hearts content. Her mother, and any other voice of sanity, was ushered out of the room. Of course, there was a disaster (deep red lipstick drawn deep into beautiful, expensive wallpaper), there was horror (on my part), there were tense words (Chuck) and there was Els saying it was ok and Amy delightfully happy. They (the eccentric adult and the child) were both allowed to do it again. Why? Well because it was Els and as Els calmly explained to Chuck, the wallpaper was already ruined – no more harm could be done.
That was Els in her world. Sometimes she would come to visit in ours and those times were equally special. There was no structure, she ran to our timetable and it was unique. At key times in my life, Auntie Els has been there to lift me up when life has been a little bit tough. When I was in my late teens and unable to find a part time job, Els gave me $20 to keep in my purse and explained that if I always kept $20 in my purse, I would always have $20. The concept was completely lost on me – what’s the point of having $20 if you can’t spend it? After weeks and weeks of stress (days and days perhaps), I did spend the $20 and now I have no cash in my purse but a well-worn credit card.
When I was a mum with two young kids, Els would be there for a l little respite – not all the time but often enough for the gestures to be felt and appreciated. She filled the spot that my mum would have filled had I been home in Australia. Most of all she loved my kids – she gave them gifts; she gave them ice-cream; she took them to her favourite spots; she bought them books from the museum; she took them on the carousel. She never overdid it – she could have but she didn’t. In reflection, she was always very much herself.
And Els introduced me to Thanksgiving and I will always be thankful that it was Els who did. She told me it was her favourite celebration – it was about food, friends, family and recognising and appreciating what you have. There were no demands, no restrictions on who could come, no presents, no expectations.
I do miss Auntie Els and not for the reasons the outside might think. I miss the elements of Auntie Els that remind me of her sister, my Nan. For two people who might seem to be so different they are similar in so many ways. I love their differences as much as I love their similarities. They are both strong, intelligent women who I have always loved talking to.
There is only one way to end … “love love, kiss kiss”. xxxx oooo.