Ode to Auntie

Who is she?  Ann Boker a.k.a. my Auntie.  She is my maternal grandmother’s sister - that makes her my Great Aunt. What is she? Auntie is old, aged, and in some ways a fossil.  If we cut her open and counted her rings – we’d probably get to 150.  Where is she? Thriving at the Longview Assisted Living Home in Wyckoff, NJ.   How is she? Fit as a fiddle and only takes one pill per day for her circulation, clotting, or something like that.

These days, I am taking the lead role in my family to care for Auntie and ensure that her stay at the Longview is pleasant and comfortable.  Does this mean that I am routinely bossed around by a costume jewelry adorned and medicinal stocking wearing lady – YES!  Does this mean I am sometimes fetching arbitrary supplies, toiletries, and the occasional lottery ticket – also YES! Does this mean that I will crawl underneath the bed to fetch a dropped DVD all while face-planting into brain eating amoeba dust – YES!  Does she know how to work the DVD player (no) and was that exercise fruitless and futile – YES!

The Longview is as deceptive as Kate Gosslin is a money-hungry television whore.  On the outside, the Longview is perfect, but once you pass through the Longview’s pearly gates – it hits you.  The smell of people who can’t take care of themselves diversified with whatever is for dinner.  I was going to start wearing a mask with toothpaste smeared on my upper lip, but I thought that might be taking it too far.  After all, I could be the sucker on a Code Brown who has to hustle down the hallway with a pooper scooper and that guy is not sporting a mask.  I want to give that guy a hug, hook him up with a Happy Meal, and let him gently weep on my shoulder.

Firstly, I have to sign in the visitor’s log and I am compelled (each time) to use a pseudonym.  Why, for my own amusement?  I imagine a Longview volunteer checking these logs for knife wielding lunatics or anthrax carriers.  When s/he comes across my Demi Moore, Ringo Starr, J-Lo, or “Lindsay Lohan’s Ankle Alcohol Monitoring Device” (that one took me a while to write out), the volunteer might be smiling and say to him/herself “fuck yeah!”  In fact, I was feeling a little..”slam your body down and wind it all around”, so I signed in as Posh Spice yesterday (see the bottom line).

Exhibit A:

 As a champion for all things rules related, it is amazing that I shirk this one simple regulation all in the name of amusing myself and the Longview staff.  You’re welcome kid doing hours in the Longview Office for your Confirmation credit – you’re welcome. 

Secondly, I believe I have uncovered a correlation between age and junk mail.  Junk mail is her connection to the outside world – it gives her the inside scoop into what is happening at Shoprite, Walgreens, Home Depot, and Kohl’s.  She saves the circulars and refers to this as her “PAPERWORK.”  On her sewing table, there is a leaning tower of circulars and coupon books.  I have begged her to let me toss these things in the trash in the spirit of “why the fuck are you keeping this shit?”  Her response, “Don’t touch my paperwork, I still have to go through all of that.”  Auntie (with your nipple-high- skirt) – this Kohl’s circular is from April 2009 – let’s throw it away!!  Why does she do this?  I believe in her mind, she is self-employed, and the essential function of her job is to comparison shop for no one.  What does this entail? Who the fuck knows?  Maybe she is deciding on a company to clean the gutters at the Longview?  She might be in the market for a new car or a Contiki vacation.  I just know that to fuck with her paperwork is a very bad thing – and might get you taken out of her Will.

Thirdly, I am dealing with a Depression Era Junkie who is one rotted pumpkin away from earning herself a guest spot on Hoarders.  If you ever bring Auntie those Dutch sugar cookies in the blue shiny tin, that tin will live FOREVER underneath her sink.  You know the cookie I am referring to……a “variety” of cookies are sitting pretty in that shitty tin and separated by fragile paper cups that would put the true Dutch into a vortex of hate.  Is it me, or when you look at those cookies, they all blend together as one big egg-washed, sugar coated nightmare?  And, they taste like nothing.  How does something actually taste like NOTHING? 

Many excellent things have come from Holland, but fine food isn’t one of them.  Although, we are known for putting sprinkles (yes, the candies we put on ice cream) on buttered toast and for that alone I think we rock.  I think that we are a crazy breed who laugh in the face of umbrellas in the rain and eat up frikandel.  If you do not know what frikandel is, Google it, and have a barf bag near.   For those of you who remember my Living Room (is that a proper noun to be capitalized)….I tore it apart and discovered a police, chalk outline of a dead murder victim under the carpet…you also know that I had zero window treatments for a period of time and this simulated the Red Light District.  You’re welcome North Haledon, You’re Welcome.

Exhibit B:

Why does she save these tins?  She tells me that the nurses might need them for something.   Here is how her theories are born; a nurse DID accept a cookie tin from her circa 1994.  From there on out, Auntie believed nurses, as a profession, use these tins and one might ask her for one.  When they do come to her asking for a worthless cookie tin…..she’ll be ready.   

Fourthly, her stories will relentlessly involve sickness and death – you just need to accept this before you even walk in the door.  You’ll be held hostage with stories about people you do not know (but are expected to) and the unfortunate and miserable circumstances that ultimately lead to their death.  “Mel, you remember that mailman I had back on Harrison Avenue – the one with the cousin who had leprosy.”  “Auntie, I was like 5 years old when you lived there, but I can’t think of anything more that I would want to chat with you about right now other than leprosy victims.”

Love you Auntie…see you next weekend!