My Aunt Joan

My Aunt Joan was possibly one of the most authentic people I’ve ever met. Aunt Joan possessed both a canny intelligence and guileless world view.  She was beautiful in an unadorned way and very intact and self confident without a trace of arrogance.  When visiting their beautiful Springfield, Massachusetts home one time Uncle Charlie was explaining the new alarm system and added, “Your Aunt Joan likes to help the less fortunate and gives them jobs in our home.  Sometimes they come back and steal.” 

There might have been 4 people left in Springfield that didn’t know the alarm code.  Because, Aunt Joan and Uncle Charlie’s home was HOME central to family and friends whether or not they were around.  And the heart of that home was the old scarred wooden table in the kitchen.  They had a formal, lovely dining room – but everyone always gathered at the kitchen table, that’s where family and friends go.

I never remember my Aunt not doing something with her hands.  She’d do something which allowed her to be fully engaged in conversation but productive at the same time; like making one of those braided New England rugs out of material scraps.  She had an amazing eye for the beauty of old, beat up pieces of furniture and her home was a testament to her remarkable vision.  She’s restored old treasures and created an “Architectural Digest” worthy home.  In commenting about their home (which really was once featured in a magazine) she would simply say, “Really, it’s just a bunch of junk I found.”

While she knew how to dress up for the many formal occasions she attended on my handsome uncle’s arm (he being involved in politics and community always) my Aunt Joan was most often seen in jeans and the type of clothing that suited the day to day tasks indoor and out that kept her occupied – something suitable for riding herd on her countless grandchildren.

Another family gathering spot is simply called “The Farm.”  It is a beautiful restored farmhouse in the Berkshires dating back to the 1700’s on acreage that has provided home sites for some of my cousins and their families too.  And, again, it is at the kitchen table where most visiting happens with the adults while most of the kids are out at the pool.  Aunt Joan had this quiet way of orchestrating the schedule of events without ever needing to boss anyone around.  She was a consummate matriarch although she’d laugh if I ever told her that to her face.

How she kept track of their 11 children, not to mention the extended families of her two brothers and one sister, was legendary in itself.  While a lifelong devout Catholic; she retained a sense of humour with all the twists and turns of her families lives and always saw the best in everyone.  My father, fondly called “Bud” gave new meaning to “black sheep of the family.”  Yet, he was always included in the sanctuary of his sister’s home.  In his final years, back to being on his own, he would regularly walk the several blocks over to Aunt Joan’s house for dinner – and without any communication being needed she would have cooked enough for him….and often enough for him to “take a plate home” for one of his drifter friends.

My Aunt Joan was not impressed by celebrities or people in power.  She had occasion to meet several presidents while my Uncle Charlie was Springfield’s mayor.  Being an Irish democrat elected to office back in the day of course, there is a great photo I saw of my Uncle Charlie shaking John F. Kennedy’s hand.  I asked Aunt Joan if she’d met JFK and she paused to think before replying, “I can’t remember, I met so many of those guys.”  And, that was Aunt Joan in a nutshell.  She was just as taken with someone passing by on the street as she was with someone in power. 

Aunt Joan valued personal character.  And, she never gave up on anyone even if they took themselves in a wide orbit from her home.

My Aunt Joan has had a profound influence on my life.  I am thankful she lived such a long and magnificent life; a hugely impactful life.  She remains my hero, and doubtless the benchmark of excellence and genuineness for many.

Uncle Charlie has loved her all these years; adored is a better word.  I have never seen modeled a love like theirs and I reveled in hearing how it all started back in 1949.  Whenever Uncle Charlie spoke about Aunt Joan it was with nothing short of reverence.  He was throughout like a besotted teenager with stars in his eyes for the girl of his dreams.  He dedicated a booklet outlining his vision for Springfield to her.  If memory serves it was “For Joan, who is my everything.”

Doubtless Uncle Charlie will most feel the absence of My Aunt Joan.  While family will gather, support, hug and uplift, to no longer look into the wise, kind and unmasked eyes of his beloved will simply be heart shattering.  But, he’ll go on being valuable and practical – Aunt Joan wouldn’t have it any other way.

Beth McCarthy Marks

March 9, 2015