The End of a Generation

Two days ago my last remaining aunt died. Aunt Vivian. She had just celebrated her hundredth birthday two weeks before. She was one of my mom’s younger sisters. Six siblings who grew up in Mahanoy City and moved, as teens, with their parents to Slatington so their dad could work in the slate quarries.

I often write about the importance of making the most of the time we have and of telling people we love, that we love them. Here is an example of a failure on my part. I haven’t seen, nor talked to Aunt Viv in at least thirty five years. I have guilt. I have regret. I have childhood memories. Seeing her beautiful picture in the obituaries this morning brought all of this forward.

She was married to my uncle, Dooley. They had two sons, Lee and Larry. Neither Viv nor Dooley drove. My dad often took them places that they needed to go to. They were a Slatington oriented couple. Dooley was the Borough Secretary for many years. He worked for Bethlehem Steel, but back in those days The Steel ran a bus line to Slatington to transport workers. Dooley died in Spain while he and Viv were on vacation. That’s pretty far from Slatington. The obituary said that Viv worked in dress mills. I always remember her as a stay at home mom. Living the life of a housewife in the twin home next to St. John’s Lutheran Church. The home is no longer there. It is now a church parking lot. Things change.

I haven’t seen nor talked to Lee and Larry for a long time either. Sad, because cousins are our first friends. They were six and seven years older than I am, so I always looked up to them. Viv was a great mom. Dooley was a great dad. They were a wonderful family.

So my dad’s and mom’s generation, in my family, is now laid to rest. Now there is no chance to reminisce with them. There is no chance to tell any of them how much they affected my life. There is no more chance to hug them and tell them I love them. What missed opportunities!

I’ll close with a memory. When Lee and Larry were off to college, it was up to me to run errands for non-driving Viv. We always lived close to each other. Every week or so, she would send me Kreitz’s grocery store on Main Street. I’d walk the few blocks with an order I still remember. Canned corned beef lunchmeat, bread, and a big bag of Golden Sun potato chips. When I would get to her house she would slip me a few quarters and tell me not to tell my mom about the tip. I never did.

So, I guess it’s too late now. But if I could, I would happily tell Viv that I love her. Maybe tonight, to honor her, I’ll have a corned beef sandwich for dinner. I can’t have the Golden Sun chips though. Sadly, they are a part of the last generation as well.

Writing this post was therapeutic for me. I hope that maybe it influences a few of you to reach out to those you love and haven’t seen for awhile. Life is short.