Aunt Alice

My Aunt Alice–my father’s big sister–used to own a cottage in the Poconos, and we would visit her there once or twice each summer, during the 1980s. One year, which probably would have been summer of 1984 because I was going into 8th grade, she asked me what I was going to be studying in the coming year. On the specifics of science, 8th grade at that time was half a year of intro physics and half a year of intro chemistry, and when I mentioned the chemistry thing, Aunt Alice brightened up and said, “I know a chemistry joke! Alas Poor Johnny, he’s with us no more; he thought it was H-two-O, but he really drank H-two-S-O-four.” I’ve retained that in my head for 42 years now, and I’m quite happy to have done so. Now, if you’re up on your chemistry, you know that to mistake sulfuric acid for water you’d have to be exceptionally goofy, or visually impaired, since they don’t even look alike. But who cares about that? There’s a funny joke to be had!

Aunt Alice also attended our wedding in 1997. She was at my parents’ house when we arrived there after the rehearsal, and I got home before The Fiance did; I didn’t even realize Alice was there before she came right up to me, hugged me, said congratulations, and asked, “Is she here yet?” She was so excited to meet the soon-to-be new Mrs. Sedinger. When The Fiance arrived a few minutes later and I introduced her, Aunt Alice nodded and said something about how I was adding blond hair and blue eyes to the gene pool. I like that she approved. I also noticed that Alice was wearing my grandmother’s old ring, the one that Grammy had had set with the birthstones of each of her grandchildren. That was a great thing to see.

I never had a lot of contact with Aunt Alice, as she lived quite a ways away (my whole life, she lived in the Philadelphia area, on the Jersey side). But every time I did see her, I found her an absolute delight. She was smart, warm, and funny, and she valued arts and creativity in ways that sometimes I felt was slightly lacking on the home front. The last time I saw Aunt Alice was sadly, over ten years ago when we took a trip to Cape May. Alice rented a cottage up the shore from Cape May each summer so we got to meet for dinner one night. Seeing her that night was quite lovely, and even then she looked strong and raring to go. And she must have been; she still had over a decade left in her at that point.

I have three first cousins on that side of the family, all Alice’s children, and there are second cousins descended from them as well, though I don’t know any of them much at all. That’s always struck me as something of a shame, though I suppose that’s the reality. I know people who are quite close with all their cousins, but in every case those folks grew up in the same region, sometimes even the same town, as those relatives. I have never been less than an eight hour’s drive from any of those cousins, so I guess that explains the lack of contact over the years. They’re all good people, though, and I’ve been happy to see them at each point. The first wedding I ever attended was for one of those cousins, back in…1983, maybe? I think it was 1983. Might have been 1984. I’m pretty sure it was that year. It was also the first Catholic Mass I had ever sat through…or was it Catholic? Now I’m running up against the limits of memory.

Aunt Alice died recently, I am told. Several weeks ago, at the age of 94. She had a long, good run. That generation is almost entirely gone, as far as my own family goes; only my father remains. It’s a hell of a thing…but anyway, thanks to Aunt Alice, I can chuckle every time I hear about sulfuric acid, and I also have some lovely memories of the Poconos and the Delaware River and a mansion that belonged to onetime Governor of Pennsylvania, Gifford Pinchot. I also have a lot of memories of lots of long road trips from WNY to Philly and New Jersey to visit Alice and my grandmother. Thinking back, I’m a bit surprised we never did much sightseeing in Philly at all; it’s a city I’ve been through a bunch and yet I don’t think we ever stopped once to look around. I wonder why that is. I wonder if my father thought he’d be cheating on his beloved Pittsburgh if he stopped to admire Philadelphia. And I remember the Jersey Shore, and the first time we went down there, back in 2011, and The Daughter got to dip her feet in the ocean for the first time.

Anyway, goodbye, Aunt Alice. I wish I’d been able to get to know you better, but I knew you well enough to know that you were a hell of a person.

One last story: on one of our visits, when I was leaning toward studying music in school, Alice told me about how one of her kids, my cousins (I can’t remember which one!), was in music for a while and one year was in a choir. Alice asked what song they were working on, and my cousin replied, “Somethin’ stupid.” Alice said “That’s not very nice!” and my cousin replied, “No, that’s the name of it! ‘Somethin’ Stupid’!” I assume it’s this.

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