Some of my fondest childhood memories are of times spent with my Great Aunt Grace. The sister of my maternal grandmother, she was a woman of Southern sensibilities and great mystery. She could shoot a gun and wasn’t afraid to use it to protect herself or her neighbors. She belonged to a garden club and was famous for winning all the blue ribbons at the county fair for her beautiful paintings. I remember her home as an old plantation house with a wide veranda, formal parlor, dense garden, and tiny cabins at the bottom of the back yard where slaves had lived many years before. Those empty cabins intrigued me mightily and I went near them, but never inside; whether we had been forbidden or just out of fear, I don’t recall. My siblings and I loved to visit Aunt Grace. We ate her hush puppies, watched Roy Rogers on her TV, and played with her incredibly talkative parakeet, Gabby. (Somebody taught that bird to wolf whistle!) Her home was filled with her artistry–hand painted china, tooled leather, hammered copper, oil paintings, watercolors and charcoal sketches. Twice I was invited to spend the night at her house. I slept on a little cot in her dining room with a clear view of the stairway that led to the second floor. I lay there, trying not to remember the stories I had heard of family ghosts who haunted the bedrooms and slipped into bed next to you. My two older sisters had been given the privilege of sleeping up there, and while the idea was thrilling to me, I was relieved that I didn’t have to. Especially by myself.

Aunt Grace had a small room under the stairs that she called Bluebeard’s Room, which we were not allowed to enter. Whether she knew the gruesome fairy tale of Bluebeard I don’t know, but I’m certainly glad I didn’t at the time. In that room she kept her precious painting supplies. She took me in there once, making it seem like a very special honor, and gave me a beaded bracelet. I cherished that bracelet, and was heartbroken when I lost it at school. She made a large charcoal drawing of me, using the most hated of all my school pictures as her model. Why, I thought, could she not have used my fifth grade photo, the one with the taffeta dress with lace collar and rhinestone poodle pin? She arranged for my only childhood birthday ‘party,’ a surprise just-for-me birthday cake after a family dinner. Along with the cake, she gave me a small white porcelain bud vase with pink roses cascading down the front of it. I still have it among my treasures. Up to that point, my dad and I always shared the cake, since I was born on his birthday, and I longed for one of my own. Obviously, I’ve never forgotten that special cake and the kindness of Aunt Grace. As an adult I learned that each of my sisters felt like they were Aunt Grace’s favorite. While that sort of put a dent in my theory that I alone was the favorite, that she made us all feel that way made her even more special. (By the way, dear sisters, I’m not totally convinced that I wasn’t the most favored but you’re entitled to whatever you want to believe…)

All this is to say that my new header is made from a picture painted by my Aunt Grace. I believe it’s of Great Uncle Mitch’s house where we had family reunions, as it was near the family cemetery. I have fond memories of drinking copious amounts of Kool-Aid, swinging on the porch swing, and singing Zippity-Do-Dah with my cousins. I am so pleased to have this wonderful picture! It hangs in my home, and I love it dearly. I think she would be pleased that I’m sharing it with you.

The Sisters: Aunt Janie, My Grandmother Rosa (who named me after herself), Aunt Grace, Aunt Julia