That's her on the left, with her brother Thurman (my grandfather) back during WWII. She must be near 80 years old now, and still lives on her own in Vestavia, Alabama. She has survived all of her siblings, and is the martiarch of our family. A honor which is recognized with the hosting of the yearly Christmas Festivities.
As you can see above, my Aunt Jessie is beautiful. Today, she has a perfectly shaped halo of white hair and her fingernails are always manicured, and were recently painted the most delicate pink. She has azaleas all over her yard, and a living room with green carpet (though it's, sadly, not shag).
Aunt Jessie stepped up to the plate and basically raised my mother when her own mom died back in 1959. She had 3 kids of her own, and I have heard stories of stolen spoonfuls of butter coated with sugar being eaten under a clapboard porch in the unforgiving heat of the Alabama summer. I get the idea that times were tough, but there was always room for one more.
She was married only once, to a man named A.P. Spain. He was killed in Italy during the end of the war, and she never batted an eyelash at another man. His name is still on the mailbox. 60 years later.
And even though Aunt Jessie has got to be close to 80 years old, she is still a force to be reckoned with. Her house is the anchor point for each Saturday's Shopping Extravaganza with my mom, sister, and Aunt Cheryl. She shouts when she addresses you even though she's not hard of hearing and she knows you aren't either. She is a total backseat driver, and she's not afraid to hold a grudge. She is very disappointed in me for not finding her a backup dancer position in rock and roll. Now that it's been several years that I've been searching for the right time to pitch Senior Citizen Clogging to "Spaceship," she's threatening to defect to the hip hop genre... She's seen MTV and knows that she could totally get a gig with Fergie. (I know an idle threat when I hear one, Missy.)
I hope when I'm 80, I'm just like her. We're already a lot alike.
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