Aunt Edna

I want to tell you about my Aunt Edna. First thing, she is not really my aunt. I think she is my great aunt, but really, I am not quite sure. I know everyone calls her aunt. My Dad calls her aunt, I call her aunt, and all of my other relatives refer to her as aunt. She can't be everybody's aunt.

Oh, and her name is not really Edna. But get this, in my family, we all call her Aunt Edna. How screwy is that? You see, when I was a little girl, we used to stay up after bed time and listen to our parents talking in the living room. We, that is, my sister and I, would sneak out of our room (there was no padlock on the room, something that my parents never thought about), and we would sit very still and listen to our parents talking.

Our parents did not talk that much in front of us, and occasionally, we wanted to know what they felt and thought. And this was the only way for us to do this.

Well, my Dad every once and a while, talked about Aunt Edna. We deduced that this was her aunt, and she was a character. Apparently, she enjoyed stealing silverware (well, it was probably flatware, but you know, my Dad never knew the difference between the two types of utensils) from restaurants. Apparently, she felt that anything on the table was fair game – but she particularly enjoyed taking flatware.

She did not limit herself to flatware, though. She took salt and pepper shakers, flowers, vases and other assorted items. That was Aunt Edna. Funny thing is that when I was a little girl, I don't remember ever meeting Aunt Edna. I figure she was locked up "in the pen," and that's probably what I told my friends.

"Oh, your Daddy is moving out because he played house with his secretary. That's nothing. I am related to a hardened criminal." Talk about one-upmanship.

Well, years later, we learned more about Aunt Edna. I was talking with Dad, and I asked about her. At first, he said we did not have an Aunt Edna in the family (how's that for adding intrigue? Now I know she spent time in the "pen"). And after confessing that I heard he and Mom talk about her, he smiled. And he told me the whole story.

Aunt Edna was really a different one of his aunts. But since he was always told not to speak ill of his relations (remember the commandment about honoring your mother and father, well, I think it comes from there), Aunt Edna was a code name for another aunt (which I knew, a really old aunt who always smelled of lavender). Interesting what you remember about your relatives. This person smelled of lavender, that person got locked in a restroom for several hours. Really bizarre stuff that may not encapsulate the person, but it is how you remember them, nonetheless.

Aunt Edna died about ten years ago, and apparently the people that had to clean out her house had a really big job. I think she may have been a kleptomaniac, because rumor has it that there were thousands of pieces of flatware (some of which were entire sets) at her house. Plus she seems to have collections of books (some of which were library books, which were returned without late charges), magazines (I suspect these came from doctor's offices, but I have no proof), and crayons (not a clue).

I only met Aunt Edna a few times, very brief meetings at family gatherings. Mostly it was my parents introducing us and telling Aunt Edna about our accomplishments since we last met. Okay, I really don't like people talking about me when I am right there on display. But with your parents, what can you do?

Point of the whole story is that stories sometimes don't have over-arching themes that tie things together nicely. I am just glad that Aunt Edna didn't collect anything too creepy, like flatworms or doilies. Okay, she may have had a collection of doilies if they had them on tables of the restaurants she frequented.