Email From Karla Aden to Gary Aden
Email Dated 12/18/2000 

Gary, for you only, below is the final draft of your letter that was sent to Jane today and mailed to Marian, and Marcella last Friday.  I also made a few changes that you didn't notice before but I did when I read it over really good.  I have put them in bold.  Mostly, I just added commas for better punctuation, but I did redo the sentence starting with "Aunt Mary, in particular, was a lady" to make it more understandable. 

I read over this several times and didn't see anything else.  Hope this works for you.
 
Love,
 
 
Karla
 
 

It had been nearly two decades since I had face-to-face contact with my Aunt Mary when I learned of her passing. Her recent photos showing the ravages of illness and time could not conceal her always cheerful, pleasant countenance. In my grief, I had the feeling, reviewing her pictures, that I could still be the beneficiary of another one of the countless meals she prepared during my visits to Saratoga as a boy, later as a young man, and ultimately as a father and family man.

The earliest memory that stands out is asking her why she is sewing with a group of ladies sitting around a large table in a meeting hall.  She told me that the women were making winter clothing for the soldiers.  It must have been the first time that war and the meaning of war sunk into my consciousness. No doubt, I was quite young.

She and her sister, Fan, were constant companions. Aunt Mary, in particular, was a lady who was equally at home indoors doing homemaking as she was on the range with a gun or a rod and reel. No doubt, they had heard the scuttlebutt on this town boy, yours truly, to the effect that I couldn't /didn't particularly relish hunting and fishing. The truth was I never killed or caught anything as I found these activities unrewarding. They drove me all over the area one day and found a small stream with "guppies" where simply sticking a hook in the water yielded a catch. Eureka! Voila! What a day! I think they enjoyed the look on my face more than anything. The experience motivated me to persevere in my efforts to become more like the outdoorsman my father sought in a son, but regrettably to no avail. I still can't catch fish. I love to eat them though. Oh, my father? Fortunately, my brother turned out to be a skilled fisherman.

One summer in college, I showed up on Uncle Lloyd's and Aunt Mary's doorstep selling hearing aids. There are many stories I could relate about this time, but the one that she and I were to laugh about for years to come related to my explanation for my acute gastrointestinal problems in their bathroom one late night.  I claimed nonchalantly that I had become ill as a result of  "bad hamburger" served at Elk Mountain where Louis Armstrong had played a gig. Of course, I tried to maintain this fiction even though she knew and I knew that it might have been "bad beer", but it sure as hell wasn't "bad hamburger."  

Aunt Mary is the last of our parents' generation. They were a hearty lot. They lived through the Great Depression, two World Wars, and grew up without the advantages and conveniences we take for granted.  Their "safety net" was each other.  In the midst of many nervous and irascible products of this environment in the family, Aunt Mary was the embodiment of equanimity. She was able to maintain a calm temperament during crises and convey an inward optimism that everything would work out. I am very grateful to have
had the opportunity to observe these characteristics in action during my Saratoga visits.
I also must say that I subsequently reflected back on this role modeling during some
tough periods in my own life.

We miss our parents' generation, their zest for life, the fun they had with each other, and the fun they shared with us.  God bless Aunt Mary and all the rest!

Gary Carl Aden, M.D. October 18, 2000