Auntie

Auntie

It was around this time when we were living in France that stories started to filter in about an old aunt we had who lived in Paris. She was a recluse, rich and related by marriage to my grandfather, (Dad’s dad), Herbie. Herbie’s mother married General Morrison and Auntie Syble was General Morrison’s sister. Herbie was her only nephew.

Auntie had apparently promised her mother that, even though she lived in Paris, she would marry an American. She had many French suitors but she kept her promise and married an American, Arthur Kemp. He must have been very rich because he left her and her daughter, Elizabeth a very large home in the centre of Paris, full of antiques and collectables. 

I remember Uncle Shaun coming to see us in France with the story that he had gone to Paris to see Auntie.  It was pouring rain when he knocked on the door of her huge house, but he was not allowed in because Auntie had a cold. Because of that, I was left with the impression of her as a hermit and one with rather cold emotions.

Auntie made up for it when she died, because Herbie, being the only nephew, inherited her fortune.  This was a nice little boost to Herbie’s sons, my father and his brothers, Shaun and John. Herbie and John went over to settle her estate.  All the antiques were sold and some jewelry brought back along with some of the things she hoarded, like fine materials and kid skin gloves. I loved the silk slips and camisoles.  Looking back, I think the family would have made different decisions about what to do with all that stuff if it were to happen today.

The Mystery Machine

The Mystery Machine

One day my father came home with a large box with two reels on the side.  He asked us what it might be and we had no idea. As we discussed the possibilities of what it could be, he was taping  us.  When he played it back to us we were gobble smacked.  It was true magic indeed! We could hear our voices speak to us from that box.  I’ll never forget the impression that left on me. I was fascinated!  I remember my father listening to his classical music on that reel to reel for years. It must have been the absolute, very first tape recorder.

Karen Runs Through the Glass

Karen Runs Through the Glass

The PMQ’s had large glass doors in the front and in the back on the ground level.  These doors did not have stoppers on them and they often slammed shut with a huge bang when the wind ripped through the halls from the front of the building to the back.  This would cause the glass to sometimes shatter, leaving the frame empty.  It would take a while for the glass to be replaced. Kids got accustomed to jumping through the large opening, naturally, as that was much easier than opening the door, which the empty hole made unnecessary.  Since those responsible didn’t always get around to painting the pane as quickly as they should have, to indicate there was a window, on unfortunate occasions, the kids would inadvertently jump into the glass.

So it happened one day to Karen.  There was a frantic knock at the door.  A woman was speedily explaining to my mother to come, come quickly, Karen is losing a lot of blood.  I wanted to go with her, but I was cautioned to stay put.

All I got were the stories of what happened to Karen that day.  She ran through the window.  There was so much blood, towels full.  The ambulance couldn’t come.  She went in a car with Mom’s friends. She cut her face badly. Did she lose an eye? Her nose?  What was going on under all that blood?  

She survived to tell the tale.  She had a gash in her face from her tear duct in her eye that went half way down her cheek.  For weeks she had a large dark scab on her face.  She went to London, England for plastic surgery. Over the years the scar faded and I never noticed it anymore.  It just became part of who she was and it never seemed to bother her.