WordSisters

Author: Ellen Shriner

  • Thoughts on Aunthood

    Many families are close-knit with aunts and uncles living nearby who attend every birthday party, soccer match, school play, and graduation. But I’ve always been the aunt who lived hundreds of miles away from my nieces and nephews. I wasn’t around so they haven’t known me well, but I knew more about them than they realized (after all, brothers and sisters do talk).

    My side of the family 2022

    I used to regret living too far away to actively participate in their lives, but lately I’ve realized getting to know each other as adults is good. I can see them for who they are now. The adult version. Minus the endless stories of their youthful foibles to trip us up. We visit in-person once or twice a year and supplement our ties with social media posts and occasional texts.

    During visits, I ask about their work or whatever is most important to them. When several of my nieces became mothers, we talked about their experiences. I validated their challenges—sometimes caring for tiny people is monotonous. Breastfeeding can be hard—do what’s best for your situation. A couple of nieces have expressed their thoughts about relationships, and I’ve supported whatever approach works for them. I happened to be around when one nephew was having a bad week and he shared his feelings with me. Conversations with another nephew might cover philosophy or food. 

    No doubt there are other older people in their lives—coworkers, in-laws—but as the sister or sister-in-law to their parents, I have a special perspective. I can share history and insights about their parents and other family members, rounding out what they know. I’m free to appreciate and accept them without the judgment a parent brings. Sometimes I offer different views than their parents’, but my nieces and nephews are old enough to draw their own conclusions. If nothing else, I’m an additional older person who likes and supports them.

    In the moment, I think they appreciate my efforts. I don’t expect too much though, especially when I recall how little I knew my aunts and uncles when I was younger. They were kindly presences but largely peripheral, or so I thought. Now, I understand how aware aunts are, even if we remain behind the scenes.

    My interactions with my nieces and nephews are brief—not much to go on—but they mean a lot to me. I always knew being an aunt was important, but I didn’t always know why. Finally, it’s this—they add to my life and I hope I add to theirs.

    My husband’s side of the family 2018

  • One Generation Gives Way to the Next

    When our sons were small, my husband and I invented our own customs for Christmas, because my parents and his lived hundreds of miles away. Making the holiday special was up to us. We missed our extended families, but we were free to do whatever appealed to us—there was no other schedule or tradition to consider.

    A few years ago

    We read “The Night Before Christmas,” filled stockings with candy, assembled big toys like the play kitchen, and added batteries to toy guitars and handheld games. We took a bite out of the cookies left for Santa and scribbled “Thanks!” on the notes our sons wrote (Santa has good manners). 

    As our boys got older and Santa became a sweet memory instead of an actual visitor, our habits changed. The four of us began cooking elaborate meals together—three days of them. Christmas Eve Eve’s dinner would be whatever the group craved—maybe Southern BBQ or cassoulet. An Italian feast (calzones, fagotch*, and homemade pasta) became a required ritual for either Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, and the third meal might be something fancy like Beef Wellington. Later we welcomed our sons’ girlfriends (now wives) into the kitchen.

    When they married, we understood some traditions would have to flex; after all, our daughters-in-law and their families have traditions, too. Changes have already begun. This Christmas the six of us will be together on Christmas Eve. My husband and I will miss our three-day extravaganza, but believe this is the right way forward.

    If we have grandchildren, I envision more changes on the horizon. I’ve watched and learned from friends and family who have married children and grandchildren. They’ve all had to adapt and invent new approaches to holiday gatherings. My brother and sister-in-law spend either Thanksgiving or Christmas with their married child and her family, but not both. Other relatives get together after Christmas, because their child’s divorce means accommodating two separate parents and three sets of grandparents. A friend doesn’t see her children and grandchild until New Year’s Day—scheduling the group at Christmas has gotten too complicated.

    My friends and family don’t relish being alone on Christmas, but they accept the situation and make the best of it. As grandparents, they are no longer the center of holiday celebrations—their adult children and grandchildren are. It’s their turn now.

    I expect changes will continue for my family. As my husband and I age and grandchildren arrive, we’ll adapt again and again. Gracefully, I hope. After all, this is how life is supposed to go. One generation gives way to the next. Inherent in raising children is the assumption they’ll become independent adults, and as a parent, I will be less central. One day, they’ll be responsible for arranging (and cleaning up!) our holiday celebrations, and eventually their children will do the same for them. 

    That’s as it should be.

     *The family’s phonetic spelling for a form of focaccia in which ground meat, tomato paste, fennel seed and other spices are spread on bread dough, rolled up, baked, and sliced into pinwheels.

  • Green Hush Puppies

    The Hush Puppies the salesman brought out were grayish green suede. In the 1960s, Hush Puppies weren’t ‘geek chic’ like Doc Martens or Uggs. They were shoes suitable for an old lady, not a 9-year-old. 

    The Hush Puppies’ black crepe soles were quiet, but I wanted the click of leather heels that made the wearer sound important, grown-up. The suede was soft and comfortable on my toes—not that I cared. I craved shiny brown penny loafers like my 4thgrade classmates wore. Unfortunately, my AA-width feet slopped around in those B-width loafers, and they slapped my heels with every step. The shoe salesman and Mom ruled them out. 

    The idea of wearing those terrible shoes brought tears to my eyes, and I might have begged for a reprieve. Mom was sympathetic but unyielding. I had to have a pair of school shoes that fit properly.

    Shoe shopping got easier by 7th grade, when I could wear women’s shoes, which offered a bigger selection. I’ve inherited narrow feet from my mother, and all of her life, she’d faced the same difficulty with finding attractive shoes that fit. Mom and I both trod the path of cute but cruel shoes and endured blisters and corns.

    When she was in her 80s, Mom succumbed to wearing plain sensible shoes for most occasions—big white sneakers or boring taupe lace-ups for everyday wear. She hated them but her feet hurt. With dress shoes, she did her best to work a compromise between style and comfort. 

    Over the years, I have spent hundreds of dollars—guilt-free—on stylish shoes and sandals to make it up to that sad 9-year-old and delight my grown self. Nonetheless, my closet is full of failed experiments. All too often I’ve discovered pairs which seemed fine but hurt my feet if I needed to really walk, not just stroll into a restaurant or party.

    I’m still trying to thread the needle: find shoes which aren’t too ugly but meet my feet’s many picky requirements. However, during a recent vacation my feet hurt every day. So, I bought some brown leather lace-ups reminiscent of Mom’s. I’ve got places to go. I need comfortable shoes to get there. At least they aren’t green suede Hush Puppies.