Aunt Anna At 100 …

For a hundred years, everybody has loved Aunt Anna.

Just not all the time.

The oldest of eight sisters, she has outlasted all but two.  Only her brother was born before her, and Costa passed away years ago.  Can you imagine being Costa with eight Greek sisters in the house, competing for bathroom use or looking for quiet time?

But this isn’t about Costa, a dear uncle who invented patience.  It’s about Aunt Anna, the first of eight Rousso girls who grew up mostly on Rutledge Avenue in Charleston before marrying Jimmy Friend and having two children, Pee Wee and Ellen.  Pee Wee was a boyhood hero of mine because he was a darn good baseball player, “damn good” if you ask Aunt Anna.  Ellen was smart and sweet; probably inherited the intelligence from her Mom but not the sweetness.  As cousins were known to say, certainly not within earshot of their aunt, “Aunt Anna can be mean.”  Actually, she didn’t really care what you said.

But, I never considered Aunt Anna to be mean.  Even when we would visit her in her pristine house as a youngster.  My mother would warn us, “Don’t touch a thing when you go inside,” and we knew to obey.  Aunt Anna invented the word pristine right after the word immaculate.  I once commented how nice a trinket looked; “Don’t touch it,” she barked with a frown.  And I didn’t dare.

If you were brave enough to touch one of her hundreds of trinkets, or even if you moved too close to one, you could risk admonishment that you’d never forget.  And, that look, that stern look.  My mother would always tell us, “just sit there on the couch and don’t move.”

But, again, I never considered Aunt Anna to be mean.  Every time she worked me over with that frown and stern look, I kept looking at her until I saw the slight smile.  That was the giveaway.

She has outlived Jimmy Friend, two children, second husband Bill Utsey, as well as five sisters, her brother and plenty of nieces and nephews.  She has never been on an elevator, probably doesn’t trust them, and has lived long enough for her doctor to come to her house rather than the other way around.  She likely gave him an ultimatum.  During the most recent hurricanes to come through Charleston, she stayed put.  Asking her to leave was a waste of breath; insisting she leave would get you a death threat.  And her yard today, even after hurricane battering, is like her house of trinkets 80 years ago.  Spotless.  You don’t want to be her gardener.

But beneath that stern look, if you look closely … really, that hint of a slight smile.  Aunt Anna’s frown, most times anyway, was followed by that smile that she tried hard to keep out of sight.  She had a reputation to live up to and she was good at it.  Still is.

At her 100th birthday celebration, which she did not want to have, everybody showed up.  Nobody touched a trinket, but everybody showed up.

For a hundred years, everybody has loved Aunt Anna.