Column: Peculiar aunt was always good for a surprise or two
Published 12:00 am Thursday, June 7, 2001
When I arrive in that great Hereafter, where we all meet again, I shall have to seek out my Great-aunt Sadie Van Horn and tender my apologies for thinking she dyed her hair.
Thursday, June 07, 2001
When I arrive in that great Hereafter, where we all meet again, I shall have to seek out my Great-aunt Sadie Van Horn and tender my apologies for thinking she dyed her hair. It was not my idea that she did, but my cousins all insisted on it.
Possibly the fact that she was the only one of the four McGee sisters, including my Grandmother Cruikshank, who had not turned a silvery white by time she was 30 led to the conclusion. Aunt Sadie’s hair was blacker than black.
When I was in Ireland I was told that those of Irish descent, who had red hair, had Viking ancestry; those who were blonde and blue-eyed came from the invading Celts; and the dark-eyed, dark-haired ones had ancestors that came into Ireland from Spain.
A lovely explanation, except that it wasn’t my Irish Great-grandfather McGee, who was dark, but his wife, of English descent. Her hair turned white early and so did his. Aunt Sadie’s didn’t.
Neither has mine, and seeing that I am the same age that her mother, my great-grandmother, was when she cashed in her chips, I don’t know why we demanded that Aunt Sadie should turn decently grey at the same age her sisters did.
Aunt Sadie was not a tall woman, but she seemed tall, because all of her three sisters were five feet or under. My Grandmother Cruikshank was four-foot-nine. Aunt Sadie had a feline grace and a way of moving noiselessly from place to place that had a startling effect.
She always had a bit of fancy work in her hands, usually something that was being beaded. She, herself, wore beautiful jewelry, but the materials she used for necklaces had no class at all. I remember her starting me on a necklace that consisted of two pieces of star-shaped macaroni, separated by six small red beads.
Never a child who sought out handicrafts, the whole project was not one I would have chosen for myself, but I loved Aunt Sadie. She was one member of the family who never talked down to me. She imparted little confidential bits of information, usually of an occult nature, that scared the wits out of me, but left me gasping for more.
She lived well into her 90s. After her death one of the other members of the family told me that when Aunt Sadie was young there was never a horse so unbroken, so fierce, that she couldn’t ride him. It came as shock. I always pictured her with her knitting needles (looking a bit like the knitting women in Dickens’ &uot;Tale of Two Cities&uot;), or wielding a crochet hook.
I was 14 the last time I saw her. She and her two surviving sisters had come to our town because my great-grandmother, having broken her hip, was hospitalized there and not expected to recover. The hospital was within walking distance of our house, and at Aunt Sadie’s request I walked to it with her through the cold January day.
What I remember most about the visit was that as we were leaving, Aunt Sadie motioned the nurse to follow us into the hall, carefully closed the door behind us, and handed the nurse a list of telephone numbers.
&uot;She’ll be going a little before three tomorrow morning,&uot; she said. &uot;I’ve circled the telephone number of her grandson that I’m staying with. We’re to be called immediately. The rest can be called at six or seven in the morning. I’ve also given you the number of the undertaker. Call him as soon as possible.&uot;
All this was said without the slightest trace of emotion. She might have been ordering potatoes. I remembered that she had once remarked of her mother that had she been born two-hundred years earlier she would have been burned as a witch. Despite my affection for Aunt Sadie, I had the uncomfortable feeling that it might run in the family.
The time of my great-grandmother’s passing was less than 10 minutes later than what Aunt Sadie had announced. She and her two sisters were at our house for breakfast by 7:30, all else having been taken care of. They were subdued and melancholy, but able to make out a pretty good breakfast.
As for me I had a question and I wanted an answer. I managed to find a moment alone with Aunt Sadie when she was putting on her wraps before leaving.
&uot;How did you know?&uot; I asked, wasting no time in preliminaries.
&uot;How did I know what?&uot; Aunt Sadie, turned her large dark eyes on me in amazement.
&uot;How did you know what time she was going to die?&uot;
&uot;I always know,&uot; she was a bit impatient with me.
&uot;But how?&uot; I insisted.
&uot;Oh, I don’t know, child.&uot; she said wearily. &uot;Something just sort of breshes up against me.&uot;
Love Cruikshank is an Albert Lea resident. Her column appears Thursdays.