BEYOND WINTER: The Irrelevant Memories of an Old Man—A DEATH IN THE FAMILY [W, 9-18-24]
Aunt Dorothy took me for my driver’s test when I was sixteen. She understood the importance of knowing how to drive.
When she was a girl, she got behind the wheel of a Model T Ford. [They were produced from 1908 until 1927.] I’m not sure why she was behind the wheel, but it was a mistake, because she couldn’t drive. The car took off, down the main street of Francisco, Indiana. By the time Aunt Dorothy realized what was happening, she was beyond the city limit. No side streets. So she drove all the way to Oakland City, five miles, so that she could go around a block and return home. She couldn’t turn around any other way, because she didn’t know how to put the car into reverse.
She must have figured out brakes by the time she got home.
Some members of the family thought that Aunt Dorothy never did learn to drive, because she had “a lead foot.” It didn’t bother me. From the time I could remember, about age four, to almost 17, my family didn’t have a car, so I thought it was swell to ride with Aunt Dorothy, at any speed.
When we lived in Indianapolis, ages 4 to 10 for me, Aunt Dorothy lived there, too. After high school, she got a job in the payroll department at the Link-Belt Company and worked her way up to be its director. She had a car—a Pontiac. It was a new brand when she was a young woman, started in 1926. For some reason, she fell in love with Pontiacs. Probably because it was her first car. Anyway, she drove them all her life, getting a new one almost every year. I was the poorest kid in school, but I got to take my driver’s license test in a classy new Pontiac.
Dorothy Pond never married. She had a couple of boyfriends, fairly long-term. First Gus, and then Roy. I liked Gus, because he worked in a bakery and would bring us rolls and cookies. I don’t know why she switched from the slightly rowdy Gus to the dandy gentleman Roy, who lived with his mother. Maybe because she spent so much time taking care of her mother.
Aunt Dorothy was a teen when Grandpa Pond was killed in a coal mine cave-in. She and ten-year-old Johnny were the only two of eight children still at home. They formed a life-long bond in caring for their mother. Johnny was a very handsome and eligible bachelor who lived with his mother until he married at age 35. Dorothy drove 120 miles each way every week to spend the weekend with them.
When Grandpa was killed in the mine, Grandma is reported to have said, “I would rather have lost one of my children than my precious Elmer.” I think Dorothy and Johnny were trying to prove to her that they were precious, too.
Aunt Dorothy was not effusive or affectionate. I’m not sure she ever hugged me, or anybody else. But I knew she was proud of me. She and Uncle Johnny gave me a high school graduation gift together, a big Samsonite suitcase, and a portable Smith-Corona typewriter. The message was clear: you shall be the first in our family to go to college.
Toward the end of her life, which ended when she was only 70, she said, “You are the only one of my nieces and nephews who looks after his parents.” That was the highest compliment she could give.
I grieved when Pontiac gave up production in 2010, after 84 years of great cars, a victim of the Bush recession
It was like a death in the family.
John Robert McFarland
The car in the photo is like the one I drove--same year and model, but not the actual one.
You are a lucky guy to have a wonderful aunt. I had one too. My mother's sister...Clara Walker-Hartfield. She married Uncle Wylie Hartsfield...a prominent San Antonio lawyer. Rumor has it from my mother, that they never consummated their marriage. Mom says, that when Aunt Clara found out there would be sex involved, she drew back from the whole thing. Uncle Wylie went to Washington DC and became a government lawyer. Aunt Clara was a school teacher in SA. They did not divorce for many years and she went as Clara Hartsfield all her life. She drove a punch button shift Dodge that she seldom got out of first gear. It was a real experience riding in San Antonio with her driving...accelerate, coast, accelerate, coast ...never getting over about 20 mph. She was a highly educated lady and deeply involved in teaching me English grammer (and spelling). I wrote her frequently from college and she would return my letters pointing out my mistakes in red ink...and a grade. Usually, a D because I had to many gross illiteracies. Like this note I suspect.
ReplyDeleteYou and I are two of the very few people left who understand about "gross illiteracies."
ReplyDelete