Poppy's Front Porch - in the Missouri Ozarks

Poppy's Front Porch - in the Missouri Ozarks
This photo was taken in 1949. My cousins and I remember the porch after our grandfather walled it in, added a door and big screen windows.

Friday, May 9, 2008

Aunt Priend

Bob’s mom was laid to rest yesterday. Aunt Dottie, as I first knew her and later, after Uncle Al died, she was Dortha Aurich, wife of her pastor at the Lutheran Church.

I drove to Kansas City for the funeral and every time I make that drive I remember previous drives to KC or, more precisely, Independence. The memories of these earlier trips all have to do with Bob and Connie and Aunt Dottie and Uncle Al. Not far behind that come memories of the farm where Poppy and Grandma and Uncle Bud lived. That farm is not in Independence, of course, but all these people are inextricably intertwined in my mind.

One of the first things I remember about her is a ball game. I’m not sure when it was (1974 maybe) and we went to the Royals game. Royals Stadium was brand new, opening in ’73, and I was pumped when it was decided we were going to the game. I remember Steve Busby pitched and I remember it was a very large crowd – probably because of Busby. But one thing I will always remember is the National Anthem and how my Aunt Dottie sang it. She sang in a clear, confident voice – she seemed loud to my young ears – but she wasn’t. She simply knew what she was doing. I had never been so close to anyone singing so well in public before.

I remember when the Wingates would be “coming down”, that is, making the trip from Independence to the farm in Forsyth. Often they would camp at Shadow Rock Park, many times during the time of the Taney County Fair held at the very same park. There was a particular spot on a “corner” which was shaded by a very large tree under which they almost always camped. Visiting them at the campsite inevitably included a meal of hot dogs and Shasta soft drinks. And if the Fair was going on, all the better!

And she was my Aunt Priend. I don’t really remember this, but the story has been handed to me by those who do. Apparently, as a small boy, I had some special bond with Aunt Dottie and, evidently, thought of her as my friend. Only my toddler-plus aged diction didn’t produce “friend” but “priend”, and thus, Aunt Priend. I like to think that she has always been my friend.

And so, Bob, Connie and Len, grace and peace to you as you mourn and miss your mom and bride.

And, Aunt Priend, Godspeed and farewell, until we meet again.

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