Memories returned

  I'm a bit of a hoarder, a collector of artifacts from the past related to my friends and family. I have been fortunate to have inherited these items over the years through the thoughtfulness of others. It is no secret that I treasure those things. Another artifact was added yesterday, sent to me by my brother in law, although my sister has been gone for seven years now. He has remarried but remains a part of my family and will always be. We stay in touch and he is in the process of selling his Florida home, the home he shared with my sister. That little artifact was on the side of that house, a relic my sister had saved from her past. That was a past I shared with her, a memory of someone special.

  I'll try to briefly explain. I lived on a dirt road with just four other houses. One neighbor, a lady we called Aunt Francis, although she wasn't related to us in any way, became especially close to my sister. Aunt Francis never had any children of her own, a medical issue I was told later on in life, and so "adopted" my sister Millie. Aunt Francis, Rollings was her last name through marriage and I'm not certain of her maiden name, was quite a colorful character. She always wore a dress, those rolled stockings, and bloomers! Yes, whenever she bent over to weed the garden or pick something up she looked like those yard ornaments you see today, the one with a woman's' bloomers showing. We also saw them on the clothesline. 

  Her home was quite small, one bedroom, a kitchen and living room, that was it.  A bathroom had been added to the bedroom at some point, more like a closet. Well, I guess that is why they used to call them a water closet. Aunt Francis was the queen of frugality. Having grown up "poor" as she often told us she had learned how to "make do." She saved the bacon grease, refused to buy paper towels, told me how you can get at least three uses of a tea bag and how to forage for food. She picked various fruits and vegetables from the side of the road, old orchards and any place else she could find. And Aunt Francis would occasionally shoot grey squirrels in her yard with a bb gun. She dressed those squirrels out and fried them for dinner! Yes, she shared them with me as well, along with a glass of dandelion wine she had made. As I said, quite the character.

  When she passed away she left her home, car, and personal belongings to my sister. Aunt Francis had a sister but said, my sister has enough and doesn't need anything. It wasn't that she didn't want her sister to have anything rather it was a simple matter of logic to her. My sister needed those things and her sister didn't. Aunt Francis was very practical about everything. Now one of those things left to my sister was a cast aluminum squirrel. This little decoration was nailed to side of her house by the back door. I remember it being there as far back as 1965 for certain. How she came to have that I have no idea. I suspect it was a gift as Aunt Francis wasn't likely to buy anything so frivolous as that. 

  To shorten the tale a bit my sister did marry and eventually sold that home. She kept that squirrel as a memento of Aunt Francis, taking it with her wherever she went. Her husband was an Air Force man and they moved around. That little squirrel has been to Germany and back! It finally rested on her house in Florida, nailed to the house by the back door. Yesterday, that squirrel arrived at my door. I am thrilled to have it as it contains so many memories, so much sentiment attached to that. I immediately took it to my workshop and nailed it to the side of that building. It isn't a back door but it is close enough. The squirrel is back in his habitat. 

  I've decided to call that squirrel Francis. I will get a smile out of that every time I see it. It's a bit of a time machine, the closet thing I will ever see to one anyway. It sure takes me back. Lots of memories there, covering more than sixty years. That squirrel was at my 16th birthday party, a party given to me by my sister at her new home. That would have been 1969. None of that could have been imagined all those years ago. What a journey Francis has been on.