I reminisce…
Several years ago, my mom’s oldest sister, Aunt Carolyn came to visit for the Christmas holiday. Being newly retired she was eager to spread her wings and see the blue yonder by way of Greyhound bus. A 30-hour trip in total from Florida to Texas.
I remember trying to fully dissuade her from the arduous bus ride for several reasons, one, in my mind air travel was the most expedient mode of transportation, and two she was not very intimate with her cell phone. And even though promising to call as she got closer to Houston I still worried.
Aunt Carolyn however, had a fond affection for the Greyhound bus, or as she liked to call it “the hound.” As a girl she and my mom would board the bus and spend summers visiting relatives in Waterbury Connecticut. So, some of her excitement for the trip was engrossed in reliving a childhood memory.
True to her word during layovers she called from two places, Jacksonville and her favorite city, New Orleans, the Big Easy. At this point her excitement was a full-on 10! Each time she called she gave a brief summation of the trip highs and lows in all of 3 minutes. Being that this stop was one step closer to her final destination, she confirmed her estimated time of arrival (ETA), and set off to reboard for the remaining six hour journey to Houston.
Aunt Carolyn’s ETA was 8:00 pm. I tried calling several times to make sure the bus was on schedule but to no avail. Again, I worried. The best thing I knew to do was to leave early and wait for the bus to arrive.
After a one-hour car wait and her phone going straight to voice mail I went inside the station for answers. The attendant casually noted that the bus was two hours late which meant I had another full hour to wait. As most people know bus stations are generally in a part of town that appears to be ok during the day however nightfall is a completely different story. And Houston is no exception. This is definitely not an area that anyone concerned about safety should be after 10:00 pm. Taking my own advice, I chose to wait it out inside the station.
The good news is she finally made it! In between our hugs and greetings, she noted that her cellphone died shortly after leaving New Orleans. Forgetting all about my two hour wait the only thing that mattered most was her presence and that she survived the trip still remarkably happy.
Aunt Carolyn has always been a happy go lucky person. The only thing that I can remember that got her down occasionally was not spending enough time with her son and grandson. Outside of that she enjoyed life. She loved to laugh and loved to make others laugh. Sometimes we laughed just because she laughed, it was a unique laugh that sounded like it came from the pit of her belly. She probably should have been a comedian; she really had a gift.
That year for Xmas we spent time with our Florida/ Texas family. She cooked and made her specialty dishes, sweet potato pies and cornbread dressing. Her bus ride stories ended up being the highlight of our family time, people were in awe that she struck out on her own, her and “the hound” and did things her way.
In the remaining days of her visit, we toured the city and did sightseeing things around Houston. I asked if there was anything she wanted to see or do before leaving. Her three requests were to eat Mexican food, barbeque, and to find her a cowboy to take back to Florida. All of her requests were met with the exception the latter. The closest she came to the cowboy was a picture with security at the barbeque restaurant, which no doubt made her smile uncontrollably. After taking the picture her only request was that I text it to all her girlfriends back in Florida who loved every minute of it.
This year there will be no Christmas holidays spent with Aunt Carolyn. Not because of the coronavirus but because she died from a battle with cancer two years ago.
Strangely enough holidays are a reminder of loved ones that have left indelible impressions. Unbeknownst to her she taught me many life lessons. At the top of the list is, showing kindness and never holding a grudge. There were certainly times she probably could have held grudges on many occasions but chose not to do so. Channeling her spirit as I get older, I’ve learned that it’s a heck of a lot easier to let it go and just move on.
So, as I reminisce about Aunt Carolyn, I am reminded that God seems to always take the good ones. And what I know for sure is with Carolyn Joyce Oliver Hall, he certainly got the best pick of the litter.
