When I was growing up, my mother had "help." It was not exactly the same as in the book The Help. They were not the help, they were just help, as in "help me, Lord." There were several different ones who helped my mother with housework, ironing, and watching us children. My mom did not work full time, but she worked odd hours, piecing together various jobs in order to be available to her children, her aging parents, home when my dad got home from work, and still help out with the family finances. The one I remember best is "Miss" Aileen.
Yesterday, my mother had a luncheon for that old friend. She is 98 years old ("Miss" Aileen, not my mother). Their friendship began as employer/employee. "Miss" Aileen knew that she was there to iron the clothes and watch over the children. If she could not do both, watching over the children was the priority. All those children who are still living are in this picture. The child "Miss" Aileen remembers best is my brother, Charlie, who died almost six years ago. She called him Bugsy. It was his family nickname.
Although Aileen worked for my mother, it is not in my mother's nature to be a hard task master nor to consider herself above anyone else. Aileen is not of the nature to consider herself beneath anyone else, and so a beautiful symbiotic relationship was born. Despite what may seem like obvious differences, the sameness is the basis for the bond. We knew that we were to obey "Miss" Aileen as if what she told us to do came directly from my parents. She often covered for my brother, Mike, when he, in his own words, "would act the fool." She was not so inclined with me and my infractions.
I remember a day specifically when "Miss" Aileen was keeping me. I do not know where the boys were. Had they been home, I probably would have behaved a bit better for I knew they would go straight to my parents if I did something wrong. I have mentioned in past blogs that my daddy thought I was perfect, and so was highly unlikely to take seriously any negative reports from my brothers about my alleged bad behavior, but my mother was a bit more likely to give credence to their reports. Knowing how "Miss" Aileen protected Mike from punishment for his shenanigans, I figured I was safe.
I was out playing with the hosepipe (yes we called it a hosepipe) on a hot summer day. Often on summer days the windows would be open allowing every little breeze passing by to blow through the screens giving a bit of relief to those inside. On this day, "Miss" Aileen set her ironing aside to open the window and tell me it was time for me to turn the water off and come in. Well, I took a notion. Perhaps, I thought "Miss" Aileen needed cooling off after slaving over a hot iron in a very warm house. I do know that I was not ready to come in, so I turned the water on full blast, pointed the hose at "Miss" Aileen behind the screen window and sprayed her for all I was worth. I am really not sure why I did such a thing. Had I had any sense about me, I would have said the Devil made me do it. After soaking "Miss" Aileen, everything in the room, and causing her to put the ironing away because she had to clean up the mess I made, I was still quite confident that she would not tell on me.
I was living under a terrible misconception. "Miss" Aileen ratted me out. I really cannot blame her. When my mother asked why more ironing had not been completed, "Miss" Aileen chose not to take the fall for my misbehavior. She told my mom. My mom told me she was really disappointed in me, and that she would have to discuss with my dad how to handle my misbehavior. Man, I thought I was golden. Discuss it with my daddy? He who thinks I am perfect? I had it made. Not so.
Picture the scene. We are at the dinner table. My stinky older brothers, my ever-loving daddy, and my mother and me who had this little secret we would be keeping. Imagine my surprise when asked how her day had been, my mother launched into a detailed description of my rebellion and defiance. My brothers were having the time of their lives. My daddy was furious. He marched me from the table to the snickers of my brothers, took me to another room, spanked my bottom and made me go back to the table. I thought my mortification complete. It was not. At the end of the meal, my mother brought out a beautiful porcelain plate and cup with Bambi on them that she had bought for me that day. She was probably paying for it with money she did not really have at the very moment I was spraying "Miss" Aileen. She let me know she bought them for me just because I was her good little girl. The wailing and tears of remorse flowed. I suffered every emotion possible from that one little prank.
"Miss" Aileen was the only black lady I ever saw with pink sponge rollers in her hair. She is who rode home from the hospital with my mother when my little brother, Sam (he's the one in the picture who looks like a movie star) was born. Sam came six weeks early. He weighed not much more than 5 pounds when the doctor let my mother bring him home. Back then, babies did not come home in car seats so my mom was in the front seat with my dad, who was driving, and I was in the back seat with Aileen who was holding the baby. My mom was tired, sore, and ready to get home. It was a warm September day. We took the scenic route home from St. Thomas hospital. All was well.....until, we ran out of gas in Shelby Park. We were right at the overpass headed to Double Drive. Oh, was my mother ever frustrated. She was letting my dad know of her displeasure when "Miss" Aileen said, "now, Miss Mary, don't you be fussin' at Mr. Thurman. This could have happened to anybody." Mom hushed, but she still was not happy.
"Miss" Aileen lost a child; a daughter. She later raised a cousin's daughter, Joanne. I do not know what happened to Joanne's parents. I do know she was most fortunate to have "Miss" Aileen take her into her home. I never knew "Miss" Aileen's husband, and do not know when he passed away. Yesterday, at the luncheon, Joanne, who now lives in Dallas, was there. She is 82 years old and is spry and so full of personality, I just wanted to hug her...so I did. Also there, were two ladies from "Miss" Aileen's church. Two ladies who have taken exquisite care of her. She has no blood family in Nashville, but she has church family. Her pastor, Reverend Harris, dropped by Mom's with a two other men from his church. One of those was the brother of Edith, who takes such good care of "Miss" Aileen. He, himself, admitted that he's a bit of a backslider, but no one seemed to care, least of all the Reverend Harris with whom he arrived. I loved watching the love between all those people related by the blood of Jesus. I also loved the way they called each other brother and sister, like we used to do years ago.
There was a period of time when my mother and "Miss" Aileen lost touch with one another. When my brother died, they somehow re-connected. I do not know the sequence of events. I believe "Miss"Aileen saw his obituary and called my mother. It does not matter. The friendship flourishes once again. When "Miss" Aileen had to be moved to a nursing home, my mother became her help. She makes sure that someone visits, that clothes are clean, that possessions are not stolen, that special treats are brought, that holidays are remembered, that needs are met. She reminds "Miss" Aileen that she cannot be cursing at the helpers or residents where she lives. "Miss" Aileen needs a little help with that these days.
When the time comes, and it is necessary for the contents in "Miss" Aileen's house to be dealt with, I will be right there, cash in hand, to buy a three tiered table in her livingroom that once resided in ours. I love that table. I am so glad that "Miss" Aileen has had it all these years. She has some beautiful items in her home. Perhaps, I will buy something else as well...when the time comes. I am so grateful for family. It was lovely being at my mother's with my siblings on a Tuesday afternoon visiting an old friend. Several times by several different people yesterday, the words were uttered, "God is good." Bless be the tie that binds.
So for today, I wish you renewal of old friendships, help, blessed ties that bind, and I wish you
blessings
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