As a child, I had a the image of Auntie Claire with short, dark hair and clad in a bathing suit on the dock in Otis or hiking up and down the hill, burned into my mind. I was going to say sitting, but I actually don’t remember her sitting. She walked, swam and was always on the go back then. I recall several week long adventures with Auntie, where she never failed to keep my brother and I on our toes teaching us manners of all kinds and making sure we said our prayers before bed (whether we did that at home or not)
The many lessons of auntie Claire ranged from setting the table properly with real napkins to “We say pass gas here.” (**sounded like “Pass gaz” when she said it) and “I am not an ANT I am your Aunt.” Later on, at Henry Street when we borrowed her shower during a bathroom renovation at our own house, she taught us to squeegee the shower down when we were done. We caught on pretty quickly I would say, as it was a loving necessity to learn in her presence.
As a child, I looked forward to our trips to the Wysteriahurst Museum. I know I still have some teeny tiny polished stones I got on one of our trips. They came in a tiny plastic box with a little lid. ( they still live in a music box on my dresser). She invited us, My brother Mike and I, to go to the museum once and see a special Whale Exhibit. We were all so excited to go inside a life sized inflated whale! Claire was the kind of Aunt who surprised me back then by acting just as disappointed as us kids when all we saw inside was blackness lit by a few bulbs. We all thought it would be so much more exciting!
I know at least once or twice we walked to the museum from her house on Merrick Ave. I remember feeling how long a walk home it felt, but she distracted us along the way, always engaging, walking along the river, where Mike and I were convinced we found a real dinosaur footprint. We had seen one just like it at the museum! We had that rock for years though I am not sure where it is now, somehow having managed to carry it all the way back up the hill to her house.
She always seemed very proper to me as a child, but in contrast to memories of helping her iron boxer shorts, handkerchiefs, and pillowcases ‘my personal favorite’, I can also recall her devilishly digging up a yellow dayLily bulb growing wild out on a wooded road in Otis and swearing us to secrecy. She was hoping she could transplant it at the cottage which was surrounded by orange lilies. Sometimes she would get a fire going in the stone fireplace outside, and set a package of hotdogs nearby, in case there might be any trouble, because ‘cooking fires’ were allowed.
I am sure anyone who knew her can attest to her excellent cooking skills! It was at her home that I am sure I ate the best meatballs and gravy in my life, I still try to recreate them. That might have been the evening that Mike was officially dubbed a “bottomless pit” by Auntie and Uncle Chuck alike. But let’s never forget, whatever the event, she was sure to show up with one of the most scrumptious desserts known to mankind, I particularly loved those seven layer bars! But she even made a bowl of jello look like a delicacy.
The longest lasting impression of Auntie Claire though, a lesson that I hope to carry with me, is of her clear, unspoken message, “We take care of people in this family, we take care of people.” Through all the adventures, Uncle Chuck, Wheelchair bound for as long as I can recall, was never overlooked or set aside, I can still picture her helping him in and out of the floating chair up at the lake, or pushing him down the stone ramp to the cottage. She cared for him diligently at home until it was beyond her ability to do so, I can still hear her wondering if it was the right thing to do. Even after, I recall visiting the soldiers home with her to say hello, or bring him home for a day.
It seems not that long ago, I had a conversation with my mom about dropping in to visit Auntie Claire, and being warned, “Don't expect her to just be there, she keeps a pretty busy schedule still, volunteering and getting together with friends.” I feel like this was just a part of her that I took for granted, until I began counting the years of service she contributed to the well being of so many people, and realized the magnitude of her truly giving nature.
It was her ability to always see, or hold onto the human connection that I imagine must have driven her. I have a letter she wrote to my grandfather when he was in the Navy, such a simple gesture about everyday things that spoke volumes. After my grandfather Charlie, had a stroke she visited him regularly, and always treated and spoke to him as if he were the same person she always knew. After all, he was the same man, still her beloved brother, though his speech was less clear, she knew his mind was still sharp and, unlike some, never treated him otherwise. Often she would bring old photos, or a clippings of things she read so they would have something to chat about.
When I was looking to find out more about my own grandmother years back, Auntie described her as “Like a sister to me.” She told me of an adventure they all had Auntie and Uncle, and my grandparents on a cruise, when my grandmother set her prosthetic leg on the side of the pool to go for a swim, despite shocked onlookers. It definitely painted a picture of the kind of character she was. I am only hoping this paints at least half the picture of who Claire was to all of us!
With loving recollection for my Great Aunt Claire.
Amy Boyden
