The Triple Way – by Sheila and Auntie Irené

In the blog of 27th April, I wrote about my BOGOF grandparents. What I wrote rang a bell with my sister Leslie, and she searched through her archives.  What she came up with is an article written by our Auntie Irené, for the in-house magazine of the Quaker community in Maryland USA, where she has lived for many years.  Auntie Irené, now in her late 80s, is a real crazy lady, a fantastically good writer and a golf fanatic, still playing golf on a few days every week.  She wrote this article about my three grandparents – her three parents – perhaps about six years ago:

THE TRIPLE WAY – by Auntie Irené

Did any of you have three parents?  I did.  In 1922 my mother’s sister descended upon us for a weekend; in fact she dug in for fifty-two years.  It wasn’t strange, for the first World War created a plethora of women deprived of the joys of marriage and motherhood.  What could genteel, maiden ladies do?  A respectable “out” and recognized substitute to palliate their maternal instincts was to become an ‘aunt-in-chief’ to a sibling’s family.

Everyone benefited.  The host family acquired a free housekeeper, nurse and counselor. The maiden aunt was rewarded with status not otherwise accorded a spinster.  She rose with the family fortunes and made herself indispensable as a surrogate mother.  Since she didn’t have final say on any matter, and being twice removed from the throne of power, she served as a valuable sounding post, guardian of small secrets, go-between and one to whom souls were bared when face might have been lost to a more scrutinizing family member.

The sisters were co-survivors in a despotic Edwardian household.  Aunt’s presence cushioned my mother’s servitude and since she was in residence prior to my birth, I was the child of three parents.  Confusing?  No.  Triply re-enforcing?  Yes.

The Trinity shared an idiosyncrasy. They were health freaks.  It was an eccentric system they’d stumbled upon called: “not taking too much out of yourself,” which plainly translates into; “be lazy; don’t try; don’t compete.”  We were invited to become a tribe of malingerers.

In order not to take too much out of themselves, the Trinity indulged in a siesta from after lunch to four o’clock tea-time every afternoon.  Imagine a siesta in Scotland where the crippling moist air made you cringe even in summer.  Facing a night in bed was bleak enough without subjecting oneself to an afternoon battle with unbending, unwelcoming stiff sheets.  Of course, we had stone hot-water bottles which seared your flesh with one glancing brush and made little impression on damp linen.  It was a cardinal sin to make noise during siesta time.  No phone calls were taken, everything in the outer world was on hold.  Rude invasions into this dozing life could be dealt with perfectly well at tea-time.

The Trinity’s warnings were numerous: “a cat’s breath is unwholesome; ice-cream will set you off in a rigor; never sit on a cold stone; bananas have worms; avoid vaccinations and inoculations; matches explode of their own free will; teeth grinding is a sign of madness; and general practitioners have scant knowledge, call in a specialist.” A few positives were allowed: “deep breathe; be happy; sing and dance (neither too strenuously); wool next to the skin, no matter the season.”

Did the Trinity’s life-style pay off?  Well, their quality of life during waking hours was certainly above average.  True, nothing much was achieved; days floated by in a leisurely fashion as they basked contentedly in their routine.  All three lived into their late 80’s.

Moral: Myraid are the paths to longevity.

Back to Sheila
So I think that definitely settles it: the trip up Kili would not have met with approval by the Trinity!  There will be no chance of an afternoon siesta and we will be eating bananas all week, worms or no!  But I wonder if Auntie Irené might be up for joining with us?  She would be very close to the top of my list of entertaining companions to have along, if she can spare a couple of weeks off the golf!