Ernestina Higuera Vivian as a young woman (2008) Photographie par Drapala Gallery

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Christmas Party with Great-Aunt Ernestina December 26, 2005 Revised August 24, 2010 Pamela Carvajal Drapala It was simply crazy the week before Christmas for me at work, school, and at home. “So much to do, in such a short time.” Presents to buy then wrap; cards to address then mail; cookies to bake, and lastly, a seven-foot[...]
Christmas Party with Great-Aunt Ernestina
December 26, 2005
Revised August 24, 2010
Pamela Carvajal Drapala

It was simply crazy the week before Christmas for me at work, school, and at home. “So much to do, in such a short time.” Presents to buy then wrap; cards to address then mail; cookies to bake, and lastly, a seven-foot Christmas tree to decorate in my usual Wizard OZ theme.

How was it possible for this Holy season to be here already? It seemed as though Thanksgiving was here just a week ago.
At the beginning of the Christmas season 2005, I found myself deeply depressed thinking about all the people that I hadn’t heard from all year which included many friends, relatives, and those very distance friends from long ago. I felt all alone even though, I was happily married to the perfect husband and had two beautiful and loving daughters.

To my surprise, during the last week of Christmas, I received many Christmas letters and cards from all over the USA. And also received a telephone call from the Glaze Family from Nebraska whom I hadn’t heard from in two decades. I received news from those whom I thought I had lost contact with throughout the years, including news from old friends and distance relatives.

A few days before Christmas, I visited my Great-Aunt Ernestina who was now 94-years-old and now lived at a senior rest home in the Yuma Valley below the hospital. It was never our intention to move our Aunt to the rest home. But, it got to the point where she could no longer be properly cared for by family who did not have experience in the medical field. Auntie had broken her hip that year, needed constant 24-hour care, and oxygen to assist her breathing. According to her doctor, her body had simply worn out, but mentally she was fully aware of all her surroundings, and very checked in with everything that was happening to her daily.

When I arrived at the rest home, she said to me, “Where have you been?” “Why haven’t you visited me?” “I missed you”. “Promise you will see me more often.” Just knowing that she remembered me meant so much to me. I told her that I’d been busy with work, school, home, and painting. Of course, I couldn’t help but feel guilty, but hadn’t I had done everything possible to ensure that I visited her today? I would do my best to continue to keep in touch even if it meant coming home late a few days a month.

For many years, I remember so clearly that Auntie was an energetic woman whose life was filled with activities, such as working with ceramics, reading, traveling, and visiting her large extended family often. She once worked long hours at the town’s main drug store, Sant’s Drugs, selling cosmetics, and was seen by many men as a very beautiful woman in her younger days. Now, I saw her breathing from an oxygen tank, in a wheel chair, a slight woman with salt and pepper hair who always seem so tall and strong to me. She was now in her last stage of her life. All the years of her life had finally caught up with her.

What amazed me was that she was the same person mentally as she was in the 1960s. She was so sharp in answering my questions. At one point, she tricked me when answering a simple question I asked her. She laughed at me when she answered my question and later enjoyed sharing what she had said to me with her baby sister, Irene.
Every memory of Aunt Ernie was intact, and she hadn’t forgotten that she was one of my favorite aunts, and she wasn’t going to let me forget that fact.

When I entered her room at the home, unbelievably, this tiny woman was trying to get into her wheel chair all by herself. I couldn’t help lift her from her bed, so I called a nurse. Auntie said that I came right in time. She had planned to get into the wheel chair by herself. I told the nurse what she had said, and she told Auntie not to try to do that, that she would only injure herself.

After she settled down, I gave her my Christmas presents to her, cookies in a small Tupperware container and a large stuffed gingerbread doll that sang “We Wish you a Merry Christmas” when you pressed the doll’s palm down. Amazingly, the doll could sing all the verses of the song, but Auntie could barely hear the doll sing though because of her severe hearing loss.

A few minutes later, I saw my other Grand Aunt, Aunt Irene, who was now in her 80's who arrived with her caretaker and the caretaker’s daughter. Auntie Irene was so happy to be there to see Aunt Ernestina, her older sister and anxiously waited for the Christmas party to begin.

We all talked a bit and began walking through the corridors of the home to the party held in the large main cafeteria. On the way, Elizabeth, my older sister came to join us. When we were walking through the halls, I saw many people who had similar illnesses as my aunt and they too needed to be wheeled into the main cafeteria for their annual Christmas party.

I wondered how the elders celebrated Christmas prior to being placed in the rest home. Surely, they listened to the same Christmas tunes as Jiggle Bell Rock, Silent Night, and Frosty the Snowman, and their parties were probably decorated very similarly with the traditional colors of green, red, and white decorations with the traditional red table cloths. Some of the folks of must have made traditional tamales like my aunts did and cooked turkeys, hams, and baked cookies for their children and grandchildren at some point of their lives.

The elders began sitting in a circle around their assigned tables and waited patiently for the Christmas festivities to begin. I noticed that foods that we were all familiar with all sat on the large table in the back of the room . . . mini barbequed hot dogs, chicken wings, chocolate chip cookies, various cheeses, and small vegetables with ranch dip. I was somewhat disappointed that eggnog was served instead of the traditional red punch.

The elders now spent their Christmas here at the home instead of being in their cozy homes with their loved ones. Would this be me one day . . . spending my Christmas with others in a home I thought? I mentioned it to my half- sister, Elizabeth, and we agreed that we would share a room together when it was time, and then laughed at the idea.

Everyone sang a variety of Christmas songs with the amateur DJ and his partner. Our table sang the loudest and my Aunt Irene said to me, “Better be careful, Pammie, or soon they will be having you singing all the songs up there.” That didn’t stop me from singing along with the entertainers. Memories from the past flooded my mind . . . especially the memory about my first Christmas pageant at my elementary school, O. C. Johnson School 48 years ago. I could vision all of us in my mind, miniature adults all dressed in our best outfits singing out hearts out to the music, “Jingle Bells” and our first grade teacher, Mrs. McIntyre standing proudly as she observed each of us. The short ones in stature, Shirley and I stood in the front roll and all the tall ones, David, Robin, and Edward.

Later, a very genuine looking Santa Claus entered the spacious dining room. His delightful personality touched all that were attending the party, especially the elderly. He delivered presents to each residence and their faces lit up just as they did when they were children.

About that time, Aunt Irene pointed to the red and green sphered shaped decorations hanging from the ceiling. Had she not pointed them out to me, I would have missed their beauty. I wondered how could I have missed them, and what else could I be miss seeing in my life?

For a moment, I forgot where I was, and began reminiscing again about my first Christmas in Yuma. I remembered that the event was held outdoors at Downtown Yuma in the late nineteen fifties. Children like me stood in a very long line forever waiting to tell Santa what we wanted for Christmas. Magical moments as those never seem to leave one’s mind no matter how old one gets.

An older man who was disabled sat near us where we were sitting at the party, and he was sitting all alone. If I had been more aware of the situation, I would have moved him closer to our table. But, the distance from our table didn’t keep him from clearly hearing what we were talking about because when I mentioned that the television entertainer, Burl Ives, once sang one of my favorite Christmas songs, “Holly Jolly Christmas,” the elder behind us said excitingly, “I like Burl Ives, I like Burl Ives!”

Later, he said, “I know you . . . I know you!” and pointed directly to Aunt Irene. She mentioned something about how he used to patronize the local Sant Drug Store many years before.

After a while, all the Christmas presents had been given out by Santa. He left the home as quickly and he had arrived. In a few minutes, we heard a loud motor sound the from outside, and we all looked out the window only to see our Santa riding his Harley Motorcycle at an incredible speed . . . probably to another Christmas Party near by.

At the end of the party, I ran outside to my car quickly and brought in the other gifts for my Great-Aunt Irene, her caretaker, and daughter. Aunt Irene couldn’t decide to open her present of perfumes there at the home or wait for Christmas morning. We said our good-byes and gave our kisses, and I promised that I would make an effort to visit more often.

As I drove away in my white 1999 Quest Van, I realized that the purpose of me attending the party was to visit and cheer-up my Great-Aunt Ernestina, but she had really cheered me up when I needed it the most.
(end)

Thèmes connexes

Below Is A Short Story I Wrote A Few Years Ago When I Visited My Great-Aunt At Christmas In 2005.

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Poèt et Artist?s de juin 2004 Pamela Carvajal Drapala bio j'ai toujours exprimé ce que j'ai vu par ma poésie, schémas, et peintures. I?ve a trouvé, autant d'artistes trouvent, quand j'écris la poésie ou la[...]

Poèt et Artist?s de juin 2004 Pamela Carvajal Drapala bio j'ai toujours exprimé ce que j'ai vu par ma poésie, schémas, et peintures. I?ve a trouvé, autant d'artistes trouvent, quand j'écris la poésie ou la peinture, I?m dans le moment. En mai 2003, j'ai donné Frida à la paix, une peinture à l'huile basée pareau, à l'enchère fine d'arts de Yuma. Tout le montant place des bourses d'art pour recevoir un diplôme de hauts étudiants dans la région de Yuma. J'ai senti la satisfaction énorme quand j'ai vu le visage de bidder?s de gain. Le moment m'a incité à me rendre compte que Frida peignant Kahlo était bon en valeur l'effort. Mes peintures sont exhibées à la galerie d'Agora à New York City en juin? Juillet 2004, , le monde a l'occasion d'apprécier mes peintures autant que j'ai. Chaque peinture indique une histoire et les visages semblent venir vivant sur la toile. Mes travaux peuvent être trouvés sur l'enchaînement à artist/D/pamela_carvajal_drapala.asp?ID=130200, divs/ssfa/wblomquist/gallery/artgallery Paris/Tower/9556/Pamelaart.html. Note: Le poet/artist réside dans la région de sud-ouest des Etats-Unis.

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