Saturday, January 19, 2008
Puzzle Piece #3
Sharon in Seattle (I've always, always wanted to go there!), (no blog to link to) asked: "I want to know how Sarah got the name "Aunt Poppy?"

It's a family thing, mostly instigated by Sarah's younger sister, Leslie. Hardly anyone gets called by their God-given (actually Dad and Mom) name. Leslie has a playful side to her personality, we call it 'quirky', and she has a tendency to call everyone by anything but what they were named at birth. She calls her father 'Don-Daddy', I'm either 'Momby" (after the headless woman in Return to Oz), or 'Bevy', sometimes it's 'Bevmeister'. Our son has been called 'Danny-Wanny-Panties' by his sisters for years, and they eventually shortened it to DWP, which we all call him now and then. (All, that is, except his wife, and can't blame her for that). Sarah's husband has a duo-name, Chris / Pace, and some of us call him one thing and some of us the other. Leslie doesn't even call her husband by his real name (Jeremy) but rather either Jer or Jeremiah. As grandkids began to appear on the scene, and they had difficulty with pronunciations, other names began to appear. Dan is called 'Uncle D', Leslie goes by 'Aunt Nessie', Dan's wife got to keep her real name (so far!), and the only other grandchild in our family, not birthed by Sarah, is not old enough to call her anything actually, but Leslie decided when he does, it will be 'Aunt Poppy', a shortened version of a nickname Leslie came up with her that bears little resemblance to the name I gave her.

Most of the rest of our family actually calls Sarah 'Runt'. She's 5'6"ish, and the rest of us start at 5'9" and go up from there, so she's the shortest by a far cry. Dan lovingly calls his sister, Leslie 'Gazelle' or 'Forehead' much of the time.

The one child, so far, who would call Sarah 'Aunt Poppy' was named a very diginified 'Landon James' and his father and his 'Uncle D' call him 'Bull'. So Sarah could have done worse, obviously. She's lucky she got out of it with 'Aunt Poppy'. I think it sounds very English, don't you? Almost like a modern-day version of Mary Poppins I think.

Becky, at The Butler's Wife, asked a question in an answer post: "What sweet memory(ies) do you have of time growing up with your sister, Barb (A Chelsea Morning)."Barb is 5 1/2 years older than me. We shared a bedroom most of the years we were growing up, actually shared a double bed. When she was into Rock 'N Roll, and makeup and dating, I was into paperdolls, Barbies, etc. - those years made a big difference back then. She was my 'big sister' and I adored, admired her as I watched and saw what the next stage for me would be like. I don't have many specific memories, rather just a side-by-side experience with me as the little girl and her as the young woman. I do remember seeing her, ready to go to the Homecoming game, in a red wool skirt and sweater. Her hair was a sort of bob with plenty of teasing on the top! Another time, standing in our living room in a floor-length white satin gown my mother had made her for a dance, thinking how beautiful she looked, how grown up. Seeing her standing in the front yard with her baby blue Volkswagon with the big flower decals all over it. A sister who could drive - THAT was grown up!

Two memories I have, one she will recall and the other I'm not sure. For her Home-Ec project, she threw me a birthday party when I was ten years old. I do believe it was the only birthday party I ever had, outside celebrations with the clan my mother gave birth to anyway. I remember sitting at the kitchen table, all my girlfriends around me, and a big sheet cake with candles, in the middle of that table. I remember the bright sleeveless top with a ruffle across the bottom and shorts that came to my knees. My main gift that year was roller skates that had a key. You wore the key on a string around your neck, for when you had to adjust the skates. I still have the photograph of me roller skating down our cement driveway, those skinny legs with big clunky skates on the ends of them, looking down with fear and trepidation as I slowly rolled down the driveway toward the street. She stood at the bottom of the driveway, taking the photo that is somewhere in the 99 gazillion I have in the basement, so no hopes for sharing that with you.

Then I remember a time, in our bedroom, standing at the window with the blinds pulled up. We stood there, with the sun coming through the glass, and traced what was for me 'paper dolls', for her probably practicing drawing fashion figures. I've often thought back to that moment, her standing a good head taller than me (I'm taller now!), and what it would have looked like to anyone walking down the hall. Two sisters, different stages of life, sharing a moment together. You never know, at the time, the little things that will stay with you for a lifetime! It's an image I'll never forget.


  posted at 10:10 AM

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    Girl Raised in the South

    I have a deep, abiding love for full octane coffee, sewing, knitting, quilting, reading, cooking, gardening, God and my family - not in that order.

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