I don’t know what it was about this snow lady, standing stoically in a field, a twig wreath circling her head, a haiku circling my brain. She looked like she had a story to tell – and she reminded me of my Aunt Babe.
Perhaps it was the twig wreath. My aunt had thin, gray hair that never seemed to go where it should, and she didn’t seem to care. She wasn’t one for fashion, though I think she was in her younger years from pictures I’ve seen. Surely she was when she danced in ballets.
Her name was Isabel. Everyone called her Babe, which was more fitting a name for her. A force to be reckoned with, Aunt Babe could be very generous, was an excellent cook, and shared many recipes with me (though she was notorious for leaving out an ingredient or changing a measurement). My aunt made frequent trips to several branches of the Chicago public library. A voracious reader, she also regularly whipped her seven brothers and sister (my mom) into shape, as well as her own five children, not to mention the rest of the clan. She could cut any one of us to shreds with her tongue, in an instant, but defended and protected us from others like a Marine.
Babe was once mugged on a platform of the Chicago El. Badly bruised, she was admitted to the hospital. She gave a detailed description. The mugger never did get her books of S & H Green Stamps. I think she pummeled him with her purse, which would have carried far more than those redemption stamps. We had our private, childish chuckles over Babe’s S & H stamps, but, I had to admire her tenacity.
I was afraid of Babe until I was about 18. Then, I tolerated her for my mother’s sake when Ma was widowed. Eventually, I grew to appreciate Aunt Babe’s strengths and hidden compassion. After my mother passed away, Aunt Babe called me almost every Sunday, checking up, chatting, gossiping (oh, she was one of the best gossips I’ve ever known). As time went on, the calls from her new residence in Michigan came erratically. Sometimes weeks would pass. Other times they came several times a week. Her mind started wandering, then, so did she.
Suddenly, she was gone, like a nor’easter finally blown out. I miss Aunt Babe sometimes. her outlandish stories, her bossyness, her cooking – and her wicked sense of humor. I guess this snowy babe in the fields was just one of those things placed in my path at a time I was waiting for memories.
Soft, round bosom in
Cold, wet snow reminds me of
Babe long, long ago
I do remember stories of your Aunt Babe. It is funny how we get nostalgic this time of year. I have been looking on the internet at pictures of Springfield of days gone by and seeing people and places that are no longer with us. Your Aunt Babe sounds like she was such a character and you turned your memories into a little poem.
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I spent enough time ranting about her, didn’t I, Janet? There is a virtual treasure chest of stories about her, but, I do miss her sometimes. We do get nostalgic at this time of year, and, at least for me, the older I get. As I wrote, I realized that my many runs to the library were actually modeled by Aunt Babe. She was a colorful character and usually the mention of her name prompts lively conversation at family gatherings.
Isn’t it fun to be able to find so many things on the internet? All those memories you have of the family store, the people, and what Springfield was like in youth, and earlier.
I think Aunt Babe would enjoy the poem – or, not talk to me for a month. tee hee
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I love your haiku and this great tribute to your Aunt Babe! Your family has the makings of a great book and Aunt Babe sounds like a perfect character for a book! When I first looked at the photo of the snow lady, before reading your post, I though she looked pagan – like a druid or a fairy queen. After reading about your Aunt Babe I think her personality fits that description as much as her hairdo!
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Thank you, Janet. Oh, yes, my family is ripe with characters. Aunt Babe was from my mom’s side; the non Greek one. The combination made for some long-lasting stories. Maybe, someday, a book; then, there is a book that keeps brewing about the Moon.
The snow lady does have a pagan demeanor. I found her on the 23rd at the Arboretum when we took a little drive. A druid left over from Saturnalia?
As I write, the sun is trying to peek out and, wait, can it be, not a flake floating down. Finally. Hope you’re all snug and warm today.
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There is something about snowmen that bring out the best stories from you, from the twigs to Aunt Babe or the tiniest snowman that was lost, then found. Love your Heartfelt stories, Happy 2014 to you, and a Healthy one for you and your family.
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Aw, Sharon, you made me smile with your comment. Thank you. I guess snowmen, or woman, are just drawn to me. I haven’t thought about that tiny snowman in a long time. I really think he found you.
Happy 2014 to you as well, Sharon – and we can all use healthy.
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I’m so glad I saved my old posts and read to catch up, Penny. This post brought a tear. Such a lovely sentiment for a deserving woman. That snow lady is the perfect picture of all of us…….still holding on, even when eventually we will all melt away.
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How true that is, Andra; “eventually we will all melt away”. Thank you for saving this and taking the time to comment. I know how it can be trying to catch up after an absence – especially such a cold and snowy one you just took.
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Such lovely funny memories. I expect Aunt Babe would have thought it funny that the snowlady reminded you of her. My mother’s older sister outlived her by 10 years. Our regular phone and in-person visits after mom’s death were such a gift. Aunt Sally Roberta shared wonderful family history and memories while also keeping up with the times almost until she died (at 105!). A role-model for sure.l.
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Thanks, Salllie. I think Aunt Babe would have gotten a kick out this. Your Aunt Sally Roberta was your namesake then, wasn’t she? That makes her even more special. How wonderful that she shared so much of your family history. 105! Wow. It sounds like she lived quite a remarkable life, Sallie.I’m glad you shared her with us here.
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Tender memories of a strong lady who was a character and loved you. It is so peculiar that the oddest things can summon a memory of the people and places that influenced us. I think we all have an Aunt Babe. Mine sold Bibles out of the trunk of her car out West during the Depression, took flying lessons in 1949, smoked cigars, loved cats (ahem), was a school teacher, owned a hotel, kept books for the railroad, played the piano at funerals, etc., etc. Was said to have kept 4 cents out of every nickel she made.
The haiku is fitting and aren’t they fun to compose?
Stay warm!!!
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It is funny what seemingly insignificant things can spark memories of times gone by, Marilyn. Your aunt sounds like quite an innovative woman with such a variety of careers. Pioneer women weren’t just the ones that lived on the prairie, were they? They were the ones, like our aunts, who dared to be different and who weren’t afraid to try new things.
It IS fun to compose haiku. I’m afraid I’m out of practice, but, Aunt Babe gave me the opportunity to start.
It snowed for more than 45 hours here. Phew! A balmy 7° this evening.
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You Aunt Babe sounds like a force to be reckoned with! The last photo and poem are very touching. You’ve captured the complexity of Aunt Babe really well Penny.
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She certainly was, Juliet. Thank you for your kind words. I appreciate it. Aunt Babe was quite a character. I’m still learning from her, it seems.
We could use some of your warm weather up here. 45 hours of snow and it is very cold tonight. Brrrr.
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This is really beautiful, Penny. Isn’t it interesting what can set us on a bit of reverie and stir our memories. Our loved ones are never far from us, I think. I do recall when you’ve spoken of Babe before, and you describe her so perfectly as a real blend of tenderness and toughness. What a wonderfully resilient woman she must have been to be so instrumental in the care of so many young ones. I can see why you’d miss her very much. I am glad you shared about her again in this way. I think it’s very honoring to her, and I enjoy when we can openly remember and celebrate a life. ox
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Thank you, Debra. Indeed, it is interesting what can set our memory juices flowing. “tenderness and toughness” – that truly was Aunt Babe. The older I get, the more I realize how much that resiliency was modeled and helped me through my own trials of life. She never learned to drive, yet, never stopped moving about, be it by bus, train, or those around her.
Yes. I think our loved ones are always around us; we just need to listen and watch and be open to them.
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I feel I knew her too, Penny – your snowbabe had something of a strong character still left about her. She sounded like a very wonderful person to have in the family – and not one to be crossed! Axxx
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Snowbabe! I wish I had used that for my title, Annie. Love it. Thank you. Oh, yes, she was not one to be crossed. Aunt Babe came to mind again as I read your recent post about family history. I can still hear her stories.
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You make your Aunt Babe very vividly alive and real to us in this post, Penny. I’m so glad you learned to see past the tough and rather brusque exterior to the loving and responsible woman within. I’m sure she would be very touched to be remembered with such affection.
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Happy New Year, Perpetua, and thank you. I’m so grateful that she lived well into her 80’s, with enough time for me to mature and be more appreciative. She had a good sense of humor, so, I think she would be touched as well, and she’d be laughing at the snow woman.
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