A Love Letter to Our Aunts
“Aunts” (Pink Peg People) courtesy of a terrific teen-neighbor creative..
I’ve been thinking a lot about various types of love, friendship, and the power of connection. It’s something that comes up often with my clients in discussions about their quality of life. As Brené Brown says, “we’re wired for connection…”
Recently, my dear, dear Aunt Jeanne died at age 89. As I’ve been reminiscing about my 56-year relationship with Jeanne (see below for a couple of stories), I’ve been musing about the unsung and mighty role that our aunts play in our lives and the array of possible families we can create from friendships.
Keep scrolling for my ode to my aunts and the power of friendship. It turned out more memoir-esque than I envisioned. I hope it kindles some good vibes, reflection, and perhaps some inspiration.
Mary, Jeanne, and Brenda in their 20s. (1950s)
Sisters from Another Mister
My Aunt Jeanne and I weren’t related by birth. She was best friends with both my mother Mary and my mom’s sister, my Aunt Brenda. (I introduced them to the phrase “sister from another mister” but it didn’t stick.) They were the closest of friends for 60+ years, meeting in their early 20s.
Jimmy Stewart’s nightmarish alternate reality in It’s a Wonderful Life in which his wife (Donna Read) was now the town’s "old-maid" librarian.
Reimagining the “Maiden Aunt”
At my aunt's memorial service, I used the term "maiden aunt” in my remarks. There was an audible gasp from the congregation. I thought I’d accidentally dropped the f-bomb or something. I was surprised that the expression was still wince-worthy. I wholeheartedly agree – “maiden aunt” along with “old maid,” “spinster,” “on the shelf,” etc. – are pejorative, diminishing word-prisons. They bring to mind Jimmy Stewart’s alternate reality in It’s a Wonderful Life in which his wife (Donna Read) was now the town’s inhibited, bespectacled librarian, the horror!
While they were technically “maiden aunts,” I experienced Jeanne and Brenda as…
my independent aunts with careers, fabulous overseas adventures, unhurried mornings, nightly cocktail hours, as well as deep love, support and engagement.
Aunts as Village and Guide
My aunts were my village. With my aunts, I could exhale. My parents loved and nurtured me, and at the same time, they were tired. They both essentially had two jobs: my father was a university professor and maintained a full-time practice as an artist. My mother had a full-time career and the cultural imperative to fulfill all of the caregiver/family/household responsibilities #1970s.working.mom.
My aunts welcomed me into their lifestyle
I played with their fabulous makeup, night gowns, lotions and potions (and sometimes scored a coveted martini olive).
With them, I ordered my first whole lobster (they had to eat it; I was grossed out), went to the Statue of Liberty and my first NYC gay bar (albeit unintentionally), and frolicked in the freezing Atlantic ocean in Maine. At age 16, with my newly minted driver’s license, my aunts trusted me to drive them down the New Jersey Turnpike… in the rain. Nuff said.
Expansive Companionship
My mother and my aunts were BFFs (more lingo that didn’t stick). Brenda and Jeanne balanced each other. Brenda was the queen of moderation and structure. Jeanne joyfully embraced play with a dash of daring and rebellion. My mother brought a wildcard to the friendship with her mix of exuberance and organizational knowhow. All three were/are deeply caring and kind people.
Brenda, Mary and Jeanne - Working women of the 1970s
Their friendship was expansive – at times my mother made a trio, not a third wheel. For many years, Brenda and Jeanne were companions – not a couple – traveling life’s path together, literally adventuring from Portugal to California’s Pacific. When Brenda later married in her 50s, her husband John was integrated into the friendship.
Mary and Jeanne at the dog park, December 2021
In the last few years, as people passed away, the friendships shifted to accommodate, with my mother and Jeanne becoming closer still.
I am so deeply grateful for all the ways in which my aunts expanded my scope and nurtured my fledgling identity. Along with my parents,
my Aunts Jeanne and Brenda instilled in me deep bonds of belonging that grew from their friendship and love.
In creativity and service,
