A Tribute to
January 31, 1919 - January 4, 2004
My 5th birthday was just 12 days after Pearl Harbor.
I was delighted with a delicate pink plastic bracelet, a birthday gift from
Aunt Mabel. It was a delight because I was mostly an "outdoors", "tom"-girl
type child. It appealed to my feminine side. But much to the surprise of the
adults in the room I suddenly ripped the bracelet off my wrist, opened the door
of the stove that we used to heat our home on Eagle Road, and threw the bracelet
into the fire. I don't know how or why I thought the bracelet was "made
in Japan" and in the anxiety and confusion of those days of war I didn't
want the bracelet any more. Aunt Mabel understood. She was loving and kind to
me. Not only on that birthday but for all the years that followed.
When I was about 10 or 11 years old I was priveleged to spend a weekend with
my Aunt Mabel in her apartment on Lexington Avenue in Dayton. It was a real
"up-town" apartment. It was where she lived while working in a Doctor's
office in Dayton. I decided then that I liked the independence and glamour that
nurses were able to have. And, I chose to become a nurse. My nursing career
didn't prove to be as glamourous as I thought it would be when I was a child
but it certainly was the right decision for me. And, although the neighborhood
had deteriorated, my first apartment as an adult was not far from that Lexington
Avenue apartment where I spent a memorable weekend with Aunt Mabel.
Then there is the infamous Weaver Reunions. On a sunny April afternoon at the
Bussard homestead on Shimp Road I recall Aunt Mabel organizing games for the
Weaver grandchildren. In particular, I remember a "Hunt the Peanut"
contest, a variation on the Easter Bunny game. While we were occupied on a different
side of the house, peanuts (in the shell) were strewn wildly about the yard.
Then the Weaver grandchildren were turned loose, yelling, pushing, probably
even some crying, as we raced to collect the most peanuts. I vaguely remember
the "winner", the one that had accumulated the most peanuts in a sack,
received a special prize. Maybe it was a balloon or a paddle ball game but we
were all winners in her eyes and we got to keep all the peanuts we had found.
I have often wondered who had more fun that afternoon, the kids running and
screaming or Aunt Mabel, watching us and encourgaging us in play.