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As our second Savvy Auntie Day nears, I keep thinking about the Savvy Aunties in my own life. Unlike my single self, our aunts were married with kids of their own although my siblings and I did get in some quality Auntie and Uncle time.

I can’t think about Savvy Aunties without thinking about our Great Aunts. They were great by title, and two in particular were great in spirit.

Each summer, Mom and we three kids trekked to her home state of Kansas to spend a week romping with our cousins. Dad usually had to stay behind to work since construction workers back then didn’t get vacation time.

During each visit, Mom would take us into Wichita for The Great Aunt Tour. After Mom lost her own mother at age 12, she turned to her aunts to provide that maternal support she needed growing up, and she always wanted to see them when she was in Kansas. These were the days when people had to write letters or make long-distance phone calls to keep in touch. Mom often lamented the fact that we never got to know her mother and told us that we really missed out on having a good grandmother who would love us unconditionally. Our other grandmother, Dad’s mom, was brittle, demanding and placed boundaries on her love.

The Great-Aunts were ancient by our childlike standards. Their houses were perfectly tidy since no children lived there anymore, and they all had gray hair, glasses, and flowing housecoats or simple dresses. I don’t ever remember seeing my Great Aunts wear pants.

For us kids, the visits could be boring. Great Aunts didn’t have toys or crayons, and for the most part, most kept hard candy in the house – something most children don’t like. Mom showed us off and gave a rundown of our latest accomplishments as we sat on each hard sofa, trying to be quiet.

Aunt Lena, a tall, quiet and simple woman, always sat in her favorite chair. We liked it when her son Vincent would come over. As the baby of the family, Vincent was close to seven foot tall. As kids, we thought of him as a giant.

Aunt Josephine was short and round with curly hair. She lived in a small house, and her daughter was a nun, quite a coup for a Catholic family.

Two Great Aunts stood out for me because they enriched our lives in many ways. These were the ones we couldn’t wait to see. They were Great Aunts and were great aunts.

Great Aunt Tracy and Uncle Nick, who were actually my dad’s relatives, lived on Tracy Street in Wichita. Aunt Tracy and Uncle Nick reminded me of that old nursery rhyme about Jack Sprat and his wife who could eat no lean. Nick was tall and skinny and always sported a reddish-gray buzz cut, and Tracy was soft, round, and sturdy. She gave warm, tight hugs that made you melt into her softness following by sloppy kisses and cookies from her kitchen. She and Nick actually asked us questions and talked to us like we were really there, not just pint-size lumps on the couch.

Tracy often reminded me of the time when I was much smaller and asked her if she and Uncle Nick could be my other grandparents. I only had the one set of grandparents from my Dad, and most of the kids at school, I explained, had two sets of grandparents. Aunt Tracy was tickled pink with the request and said she would be happy to be my surrogate grandmother.

The other aunt we loved to see was Sister Regis. She was born Martha and was my late grandmother’s twin sister Marie, the ghostly mother my mother still mourned. Martha became a nun back in high school and took the name Sister Regis. She was a teacher and sometimes worked in Catholic hospitals.

When she worked at one of the hospitals, she would take us to the cafeteria and give us tiny chocolate ice creams in paper cups we ate with wooden spoons. She often let us have two. Now that’s a Savvy Auntie.

Although I never asked her, I think Sister Regis felt an obligation to be a surrogate grandmother of sorts to not only my siblings and I but to all of my cousins. We were cheated of a grandmother, the kind who would bake cookies, give long warm hugs, and become the biggest cheerleader. Sister Regis always liked to hear how we were doing in school, what our favorite subjects were, and what we were up to in general. She remarked how she enjoyed our letters that we wrote her on a fairly regular basis.

Sister Regis was a quiet, feisty woman. When the Church moved her to a nursing home for nuns, she was not happy. She was adamant about busting out and returning to her teaching, but unfortunately it didn’t happen. The first time we visited her there, we passed her room up because we saw an elderly woman sitting there with short gray hair and not wearing a habit. Since we had never seen her without her trademark black habit, we didn’t recognize her. It was the first time we saw her hair and her vulnerability.

As my brother, sister and I grew up and began to take on the world, our Great Aunts became more frail and began to leave us one by one. The passing of Great Aunt Tracy and Sister Regis, the last to leave us, were particularly difficult for us kids. In addition to losing two fabulous Great Aunts and two women who were Savvy Aunties before the time and enriched our lives so deeply, we also lost our grandmothers. Again.

At 3:40 am on March 16, 2010, I held my grandmother's hand as she breathed her last. She was 90.

She came into our lives at the age of 50, after meeting my grandfather. I never really thought about it until recently, how brave & gutsy she was, to move an hour away from the town were she lived all her life and marry a widower who had three teenaged children, one of them with Down's syndrome. My father was 19 then and he gave her a run for her money!

Until her marriage, she was the single auntie to her brother & sister's combined 6 children. Her brother was a minister and missionary; much of her nephews and nieces' growing up years were spent overseas. I always knew she was close to her nephews & nieces by these days they span the globe and I don't know them well at all.

It wasn't until my grandmother's funeral that I learned about her savvy auntie-ness. Her niece, who followed her father's footsteps and became a minister, read tributes from the other nieces, nephews, and great-nieces and great-nephews. I always knew my grandmother as practical, a product of the Depression who saved EVERYTHING almost to the point of hoarding, and going out of her way to be there for you, but I never really saw her as an aunt.

She was a prolific letter writer all her life, and that's what her nieces & nephews remembered. She was also an artist; she drew them silly pictures and caricatures to send to them, no matter where they were in the world. She spent hours playing Scrabble with them when they'd come stateside; she taught them how to mend, fold clothes so well that they looked pressed, how to be productive members of society, shared her love of Jesus, and what it is to be content in life despite having few monetary items. They talked about stories she'd tell. After her death, I found all her photo albums, and she was quite a dutiful auntie, taking tons and tons more photos. She labeled each photo by time, date, location, and what was going on when she snapped the photo. What made me laugh is that I NEVER saw my grandmother holding a camera!

My grandmother could stretch a dollar till Washington screamed. She had always said "my grandchildren will love me for who I am, not what I buy them". She used to make my parents grimace and roll their eyes when she'd send us checks for $7 or $8 and change, because she'd deduct the cost of the card & stamp from the $10 birthday check she'd send in the mail. Everyone got $10, no matter the occasion or the relationship.

As I sat in the front row at her funeral, listening to all the memories that her nieces and nephews cherish, I realized that she didn't love them any less or more than her grandchildren; each of us had special places in her heart. She once drew a picture of a heart for me and divided it into 5 pieces. She then put the names of each grandchild in the piece, reminding me that no one could ever take my piece of her heart away. She apparently did that for her nieces & nephews, too, and that's what they remember.

I don't have to spend money to be a savvy auntie; when my babies one day sit at my funeral, I hope the stories they tell are like the ones I heard yesterday. My grandmother was a superior savvy auntie; I hope I can be half the auntie she was.

She’s the only person left on the planet who changed my diapers. She remembers the day I was born. She lives across the country; I see her very rarely.

At 91, she moves a little slower and shakier—but she’s as sharp and salty as ever. She reads like crazy but she doesn’t use a computer— and she has no idea that I recently wrote a post about how I wish I had more of my mother’s clothing.

So it was an amazing sign from the universe when I saw her last week— she brought me a dress of my mom’s that she wanted me to have.

I’m thrilled to have my mom’s dress; and over the years she’s given me so much more.

When my mom died of cancer at 41, I didn’t yet appreciate or understand the depth of their relationship. Years later, I learned that this was the person to whom my mom confided her secrets, and asked to watch over her 3 children.

Our father took great care of us; and she had her own family. Still, she kept her promise to my mother….to this very day.

She’s the closest my kids ever came to having a grandmother. They call her “Aunt Helen”; because that’s what I call her. But we’re not related by blood; we’re related by love.

My mother had a sister; Aunt Helen is the sister my mother chose for herself.

Back in the day, “aunt” was what we kids called women who were close friends of the family. I wish there was a better word in the lexicon to describe these close ties—with people who are closer than friends but aren’t relatives.

With families that are fragmented and scattered and blended, we aren’t all lucky enough to have families who are there for us -—geographically, physically or emotionally. But if we’re really really lucky, we have friends who define what family truly means—-even though our mothers told us blood is thicker than water.

Friends are the family we choose for ourselves. I feel grateful that my mom chose so well—and I wish everyone could have an Aunt Helen.

(I originally wrote this for Savvy Auntie's Day but thought I'd share it [with some revisions] as the question of the day.)


I have six aunts, but I'm closest to my dad's youngest sister, Terry. (Dad's other sister, Anne, has down's syndrome, and while I do adore her too, she's lived her own life, on her own, with help, further away, so I didn't see her as often.) I suppose that it helps that I've been mistaken of being her daughter since the day I was born. Even today, when people meet the two of us together, they remark at how closely alike we look. However, that's not why she's my "best" savvy auntie. I suppose she is because she's the aunt I know the most.

It also didn't help that she's also my single aunt who could spoil my siblings and I silly! She is eight years younger than my dad; she was only a year out of high school when I came along. I guess it was lucky for me that I'm the oldest grandchild on that side of the family, as I got the brunt of the spoiling!

Earliest memories are also with Aunt Terry around. I can still here my dad complaining about how she never bought batteries for Christmas when she'd buy all those toys that needed them. She never came to visit without having at least one thing for each of us.

When I was younger, and before my sisters joined the family, I would get to go spend the weekend with her. We lived an hour away, so going to her house was extra special. Since she still lived with her parents, I got a special "going to Grandma's" suitcase to take with me. I remember packing it carefully so we could go to a family member's evening wedding. I was so tickled that night as it was the first time I felt like a "big girl" because we were out past my bedtime, in the dark (the dark was important, for some reason) and my parents weren't around.

Aunt Terry took my brother and I for a week the summer that our mom was pregnant with our youngest sister. She took us to New Hampshire to visit "Story Land", a theme park. I remember my brother being afraid of a ride, and I freaked out our aunt by going on the roller coaster - twice - with an adult cousin. My favorite picture of that day is of me wearing my pink, shirtsleeve shirt with the ice cream cone on it, holding the little stuffed squirrel that I just had to have and she bought for me.

Aunt Terry once got me a couple fancy traveling cases for my birthday. The following year I packed them in the car, empty, when we went to visit around my birthday. It was quite reasonable in my mind: I was going to get birthday presents and I needed to have SOMETHING to put them all in! My parents thought that was presumptuous of me to think that way, but you know it .... they came home full!

Aunt Terry spared no expense on the stuff she got for us. Today we tease him about it, but as soon as our cousin was born, the big, fancy, multiple presents stopped! Being a single mom took most of her money, but Aunt Terry has always been a generous soul, and still is. With 3 nieces to love, she would make sure that we girls had matching items, with different colors. Since my sisters are only 22 months apart, and usually fit in the same items after they were preschoolers, they'd get the same outfits. My brother naturally got the same item as her son, which tickled our cousin to no end to be just like his big cousin!

She is also a fabulous cook, just like her mom, who died before I was born. Being Italian, life revolved around the dinner table after Sunday Mass, and the recipes passed down from generation to generation, she cooks with skill. Whether it is meatballs, veal cutlets, fresh pitzels, superior spaghetti sauce, Easter Bread, pasta, cakes, lasagna or even a lowly salad, no one can make it as good as Aunt Terry does! (I am a horrible cook, I'm sorry to say!)

Aunt Terry has been there to listen to me wail and complain, though, to this day, she doesn't like to hear about my fights with my dad. (I'm sure she heard them all from his point of view, too!) As their mom died when they were kids, and their dad when they were in their 20's, she idolizes my dad and doesn't take criticism of him well, but she still listens. Dad and I were always too much alike in character and gracious, we butted heads a lot as I got older!

She growls at me because I keep my toes painted. She reminds me often of how my dad would NEVER let her paint her toes because "only prostitutes do that" and how he's rolling in his grave because my toes are pink, or orange, or green, or blue. I remind her that since painting my toes is the only thing I ever went out of my way to do to tick him off, everyone should be GRATEFUL! I still paint my toes every 3 weeks.

Now that I am the aunt, Aunt Terry loves to spoil them as much as I do! I guess I learned my auntie lessons well, and my nieces look just like me. Now that my cousin is grown and out of college, she's got money to spend again, and she delights in shopping for the girls and my baby nephew.

My dad died six years ago, and Aunt Terry wants to be sure that my nieces and nephew get to know their grandfather. My dad made it important that we learn about our family's legacy, and she continues that cause for him. Our family has a tremendous legacy of volunteerism and giving to the community and to our state, and now that she is the only one left of their generation to pass the torch, she does it with her expert skill, dedication, and love. These days she's the primary contact person for my grandmother in a nursing home and her sister, whose health is failing, but she's still there for us and it hasn't diminished her giving spirit. If there's one thing I've learned best from her, it is to cherish and love the family, no matter what. That, and how to be a great, savvy auntie!