My heart leaps when a letter comes from Great Aunt Agnes. My very first memory of her is stamped into one of those 1960's square color photos; a picture of myself and another young relative, grinning broadly and holding armloads of kittens in the summer sun. Agnes always had cats. For years, whenever it was my birthday, a card would arrive - like clockwork - with a little note and a dollar. Always a dollar.
When I got to be a cynical teenager, I'd just shrug at the dollar - what on earth could you do with that? But mom would "tsk" me and I'd end up writing that thank you note; the obligatory one that you had to have done before supper. And I did.
Even on into college, Aunt Agne's cards continued to arrive, sometimes with a few dollars, sometimes even with a five. By that time, I'd begun to appreciate the persistent recognition that this distant relative offered my small life. I'd begun growing past my teen disinterest in anything family.
Maybe it's because of this type of tradition that I so love the arts of paper and pen. Having a mother who writes in her diary every single day - still even at age 89; who made me write thank you notes and enjoyed sharing the written notes and letters of family and friends, and having those lifelong missives from Aunt Agnes -- these have formed my love of news, my contentment at the sound of the pen scraping on the paper or the keystrokes tapping across the computer screen.
I pulled out the card: Two cats, illustrated against a backdrop of a Christmas tree, presents, and fireplace, with another cat hanging in Christmas stocking. "The Humane Society of the United States" on the back. On the biggest cat, scripted in that controlled ink scrawl on the white of his chest "Happy Birthday!". On the littler cat: "Me Too!" Agnes' playful spontaneity is so exactly like that of a cat.
Inside; lines mostly straight and solid, running the same quirky script with capitol letters sometimes emphasizing particular words:
Dear all the people and kitties and Betsey and Gamaches - Monday March 1
Today I got the long juicy letter from Betsey reminding me it is Birthday time and I forgot but I can blame everything on that old age -- have B. cards somewhere but can't find one when I need em. Can't believe all the bad things Betsey goes thru and still comes up smiling. Hopefully we had the last snowstorms ? of the season. March is usually so windy and that's cold - O ya one for my Granson has a birthday tomorrow (15) Nicholas my Nick's dad is baby sitting me tonite - the big shots say I must not be left alone and Mark is working nites this week. Thankful he still has a job! O yes the Heart arrived safely I read it twice can't believe (something illegible) well thanks for all the goodies and cooking etc. its sure appreciated when u r down and out.
the old Granny
I can see Agnes sitting there at her kitchen table in Michigan; light peeping into her 1950's kitchen; a cup of coffee next to her, her parrot chirping behind her and one if not two of her kitties sitting on her lap, making a Christmas Card into my B day card and writing me that letter. My heart just fills with love for this tenacious woman, who has remembered me for 50 years of my life.
Agnes turned 100 on December 6.
I shall have to write her a letter tomorrow. I've got to let her know I'm getting over my flu and there's some places where the snow is all gone in the backyard now; that Mom is fine and Barbie and Laurie are in Florida. I'll send her some pictures of the kitties.
