My great aunt Mary lived her entire life in central North Carolina. Born in Wake County, she and her husband Marvin farmed and raised a family in Roseboro. I didn't know her very well, seeing her only when she and Uncle Marvin would come up to Raleigh when we were in town to go to the North Carolina State Fair. Uncle Marvin and Aunt Mary would always stay with her eldest sister, my great aunt Lidie. I loved hearing them talk and tell stories and 'carry on' while sitting in Aunt Lidie's front porch rocking chairs. And I particularly loved eating the fresh, ripe watermelons that Uncle Marvin brought along as treats. Oh my goodness. Never have I tasted such sweet, juicy, crisp watermelons as those. Uncle Marvin's melons set my standards unattainably high, I'm afraid. (I am a watermelon snob as a result. Oh well.) My memories of Aunt Mary and Uncle Marvin contain happy and loving images.
Aunt Mary, however, had borne great sadness in her life. She and Uncle Marvin had several sons and one daughter, June. As my father told me, little June was a lovely little girl and the light of her parents' lives. The farmhouse where the family lived had an open fireplace (in the living room, I think), and of course in the colder months a fire always blazed there. Little June, probably around 4 at the time, was playing in the vicinity of the fireplace. You know where I am going with this story. In a terrible, terrible accident, she somehow tripped and fell into the edge of the fire. She died from her burns. My father always grew quite sad when he told this story. I can only imagine the hole this tragedy ripped in the family. And what must it have done to Aunt Mary and Uncle Marvin? She battled this sorrow for the rest of her life. I know that she struggled with depression off and on in a place and time where this wasn't an acknowledged condition. Yet she persevered somehow and lived a long life.
My greatest memory of her comes from her visit one afternoon to our new house. This would have been around 1963 or 1964, I think. We had an old upright piano in the family room of the new house, and that's where I practiced. The day that Aunt Mary visited, everyone else in the family was outside doing something or other. I was walking into the kitchen when I saw Aunt Mary sit down at the piano.
Who knew she could play? I thought she would pick out "Chopsticks" or something like that.
Ha!
Aunt Mary lifted her hands to the keyboard and began to play a transcription of the "Barcarolle" from Offenbach's "Tales of Hoffmann". This arrangement required the pianist to cover the entire length of the keyboard with wonderful, difficult chords and arpeggios and all kinds of beautiful but technical music.
My jaw just dropped. Aunt Mary flat out killed that piece.
She was wonderful. Back and forth, up and down the keyboard, her hands moved with amazing certitude and skill. When she reached the piece's conclusion, she just sat for a few moments before standing up. I don't remember what I could possibly have said to her, but we both smiled huge grins at each other and then went on outside to find the others.
I will never forget that day. What wonderful surprises can come from the people about whom you think you know everything. I like to think that Aunt Mary's music carried her through the dark valleys and lifted her to the highest hills.
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