I count myself very lucky
to have grown up with positive models of what growing old looks like. My
grandmother, Lucille, lovingly tended her TB afflicted husband for years at
home in their small north Louisiana town. But when her husband died, she became
an intrepid solo traveler. One day she surprised everyone, just packed her bag
and flew off to Paris. My great aunt Helen, an accomplished and eccentric
painter and author was married to John, who dropped out of high school at
sixteen to take a job. John’s first job was cleaning cages at the Bronx zoo,
but eventually he became the zoo’s director. Helen and John flew around the
world collecting animals, and fascinating stories, which they recounted over
martinis to their wide-eyed grand nieces. I always think of Helen, who was
large in every way, dressed in her favorite outfit. She had persuaded my mother
to sew it for her, my mother who favored beige cardigans and trim little navy
blue A-line skirts. Helen’s voluminously full skirt was made from fabric she
brought home from China, printed with giant pandas munching bamboo. She always
wore it with a purple vest, red leather sandals and bright green ankle socks.
- Anne Damrosch is a published poet and writer living in Burlington, VT
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