When I think of my Aunt Becky, all I can do is smile. I was so blessed to have her as my aunt. I have so many wonderful memories over the years of gatherings in Vienna, Deer Park, Lancaster, and Kingsport. What marvelous times we had together talking about life, sharing meals, telling stories, laughing, playing bridge, and just generally having a good time. Those special times together as family are times you wish would never end because they are so good.
Aunt Becky knew how to spoil her nephew. Without fail, every time my parents and I visited for spring break there was a delicious short cake waiting for me. I’d eat it with strawberries and whipped cream in the swing chair on the back porch. Then, there were the many times that Matt and I would stand over the sink and lick frosting off mixer whisks that Aunt Becky had just used. Then there was the time she took me to see a Zorro movie on a rainy day in Deer Park. Another time I mentioned to Aunt Becky in passing that I needed new running shirts. Before I knew it, we were on an athletic store website and running shirts were on their way.
The only thing that ever landed me in “trouble” with my aunt was cranberry sauce. She knew that I liked cranberry sauce and that it was a staple for Thanksgiving dinners. What she didn’t know was that canned cranberry sauce—a very congealed type of cranberry sauce—was the only cranberry sauce I knew. So Aunt Becky did what Aunt Becky does – she made her own cranberry sauce for one of our Thanksgiving dinners. When she asked me what I thought of it, I told her it was “too watered down.” Then, when I started to compare her cranberry sauce to the canned kind, none of us could contain our laughter. Suffice it to say that I never lived that comment down, but it provided us with lots of great laughs over the years.
Aunt Becky’s influence on me will last a lifetime. When I was in my teens, she lovingly nudged and prodded me to expand my horizons. She introduced me to the Economist. She gave me a book about gay marriage. Perhaps most significantly, though, she shaped my outlook on colleges. Growing up in Tennessee, I initially had eyed schools in the South. Aunt Becky, though, suggested I cast a broader net and at least check out some liberal arts colleges in the Northeast. My parents and I took a college trip where we did exactly that. One look at Princeton, and I was sold. The idea to even consider a school like Princeton in the first place literally changed my life, and I doubt I ever would have done so without my Aunt Becky’s encouragement (Uncle Paul, I will give you a little credit here too 😊).
Aunt Becky had a marvelous sense of humor. We shared many laughs over the Daily Show with Jon Stewart, silly internet videos (like a cat walking on a treadmill), the Darwin Awards, etc. We listened to the Capitol Steps and even saw them perform live.
When Maria and I began dating, Aunt Becky welcomed Maria into the family with open arms. Maria always felt so included, and she loved our visits with Aunt Becky and family. When we needed help in deciding on a wedding cake, in came Aunt Becky. She baked white cakes and chocolate cakes, cakes with syrup and without, fruity cakes and non-fruity cakes. We taste tested them all, of course, and it was a blast. Ultimately, with Aunt Becky’s assistance, we landed on the perfect one: three-tier white butter wedding cake with Mousseline berry buttercream icing.
No one gives better hugs than Aunt Becky. She gave the absolute best hugs. Any time we arrived for a visit and when we departed Aunt Becky would give me, Maria, and my parents the warmest embraces. These warm embraces were so powerful. As a nephew, they made me feel so loved and protected, as if my aunt was sheltering me from everything bad and negative in the world, even if only briefly. Those welcome and goodbye embraces were fleeting, but the love with which Aunt Becky gave them endures. And they still (and always will) bring a smile to my face.
