THE WIND PHONE
My Aunt Connie’s Memorial Service Involved a Dustbuster
Gothic and funny — just the way she would have liked it
My friends Naomi and Michael sat with me on the deck behind Urban Orchard, a cidery in my neighborhood. It was a great place to sit on a beautiful spring day in Asheville, surrounded by mountains.
“So,” Naomi said, leaning toward me over the wrought iron table. “How’d it go at your aunt’s service?”
I’d already dropped hints that not everything had gone according to plan, and she and Michael wanted to hear about it. I made sure we all had full pints, knowing this would take a minute.
“Let me start by saying that I love my cousin Beth,” I told them. “We grew up together. She’s my Aunt Connie’s daughter. I adored my Aunt Connie. So I really do try to have patience with Beth. But… sometimes you just reach a point. You know?”
Naomi and Michael both nodded sympathetically. They have family, too.
A few years ago, I visited Aunt Connie at her house in the small town of Congaree in South Carolina. At the time, Connie was 78 years old and not in very good health. She struggled to move around and occasionally winced in pain. But she still talked with a tone of joy and happiness. She was always…
