Aunt Lucy had style. Until she turned 80 and accidentally slipped and broke her hip coming out of the shower, she wore high heels and red lipstick every day. Here is what I remember about her.
By the time that Aunt Lucy was in high school, the family had moved from the country to town and built the big brick house. Aunt Anna, the oldest sister, and Mae, the middle sister, were already married and in their own homes. Aunt Lucy and Uncle Vince lived at home with Grandma and Grandpa – and across the street lived a Mr. Deal and his wife.
Mr. Deal had a young rake of a brother named George who was the youngest of several children. George had many opportunities to see this high-heeled-stepping, red lipstick-wearing, Italian maiden sashay her way to school every day. In a trice, which I think is a little faster than a second, he was smitten and set about to storm the citadel.
One day when Aunt Lucy was about 16, she told Grandma that she was going to spend the night at her sister’s house. Of course, she did no such thing. In fact, she and that George character were high-tailing it across the Pennsylvania border into West Virginia to get married which they did. They came back the next day to a frosty reception. Grandma was so mad that she refused to let Aunt Lucy come home and the two elopers had to live at George’s brother’s house for quite a while.
As I remember the story, it wasn’t until Aunt Lucy was pregnant with George, Jr. that Grandma finally relented and welcomed her back into the fold. Of course, Uncle George’s nefarious behavior was never really forgotten and he was made to pay in various ways over the years. He was the first non-Italian to invade the family circle – and to add insult to injury, he was not Catholic.
Aunt Lucy and Uncle George ended up building their little bungalow next door to Brother Deal and his wife, and across the street from Grandma and Grandpa. Aunt Anna and Uncle Rocky lived one block away; my mom and dad were the furthest at eight blocks. Uncle Vince was back at home after an acrimonious divorce. All the family members were within walking distance. Umbilical cords might be stretched a little but they were never broken.
Aunt Lucy was quite the modern woman and during WWII, she got a job at Westinghouse where Uncle George had been working on the docks. Women working in factories were still pretty daring and after the War, Aunt Lucy kept her job as a delivery clerk on the factory floor. Years later, she and Uncle George both retired from Westinghouse with nice pensions.
Sometimes Aunt Lucy wore slacks instead of dresses to work but no matter what she wore, she always had on high heels. Her costume jewelry always matched the colors of her outfit; she always wore a good girdle and sheer hose. Now you might think from all this that Aunt Lucy was beautiful or good-looking. She wasn’t; she was better than that – she had personality and joie de vive. She was full of positive energy and always ready to do something. I admired her greatly.
One time Aunt Lucy had a chance to get a promotion at work. Moving up from the factory floor to the office would not only pay more but also offer her some distinct social advantages. There was only one catch – she had to learn to type. So the summer of 1960, Aunt Lucy, at age 50 (?) and I at age 15 went to the area Business School and signed up for their six week typing course.
Every weekday morning at 8:00, Mom would drop me off at Grandma’s house, Aunt Lucy would come over from across the street and Grandma would make hot dark coffee in an aluminum percolator. Grandpa would take his coffee with a shot of whiskey and then go sit under the cherry tree in the garden and plan out his day in the garden.
Aunt Lucy and I would would drive in her 1957 green Plymouth to the business school. It was on the second floor above a men’s clothing store; it was a big single room lined with long tables on which sat two dozen black 500-pound Remington typewriters with little round key faces that you had to pound to operate. Once you memorized the placement of the keys, the next step was to learn to type in rhythm to get your speed. Our goal, as students of the first level, was to type 35 words per minute perfectly. This was before backspace erasing, before liquid paper, before those chalky strips, before anything but pencil erasers and carbon paper.
At the end of six weeks, both Aunt Lucy and I graduated, albeit not with honors, but we did get a certificate and Aunt Lucy did get her promotion. Funny thing was, after a few months, she asked for her old job back. Seems she didn’t like sitting behind a desk all day and she missed talking to all her buddies on the factory floor.
Aunt Lucy lived to be 99, just missing triple digits by a few months. She had many friends and continues to be remembered with affection.
“The high prize of life, the crowning fortune of a man, is to be born
with a bias to some pursuit which finds him in employment and happiness.”
Emerson, Conduct of Life
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