I Had A Dream

When I was growing, up each of my great aunts kept a dream book on a bedside table. They would consult these pages to interpret their dreams in order to predict the future or perhaps help them find a number that would make them rich. No one ever got rich, but they never stopped dreaming or believing that their dreams held revelations.

In college I learned, from the writings of Freud, that dreams are the brain's way of working out our problems during sleep. It was an "a-ha" moment for me. I love logic and reason and that sounded perfectly reasonable, but even with a reasonable explanation, I've never let go of what I grew up with.

Last night I dreamed about my 94 year-old, great-aunt, Letha.

I was in her old apartment in the housing project that has since been demolished. She looked wonderful. She was rockin' a sweet wig and seemed to be at that age where I like to remember her. She looked at me and said, "I don't know if I want to celebrate Sarah's (her younger sister) birthday (March 30) this year." I don't remember what I said or much else after that.

I awoke disturbed and called my Aunt Jane, who lives near the nursing home where Aunt Letha resides these days. Aunt Jane told me that she visited with Letha yesterday and she's not doing well. Physically, she's fine, but mentally she's retreating to that place where she doesn't know anyone. I suppose I should provide a little back story about Aunt Letha for new readers.

Aunt Letha is one of the most colorful characters in my family. She was born Mamie-O-Letha on August 10, 1913 or 1914 in Mount Vernon, Georgia. We're not quite sure of the year because black babies were not required by law to have birth certificates until 1919. She dropped the 'Mamie-O' because she thought it too country. Yet, she allowed her nickname, Goosie, to follow her throughout life.

In her youth, people gave her wide berth because she was reputed to tote a knife or gun at all times. There is one story circulating of how she cut a man named Spunk Adams. As the story goes, Spunk came over to the house looking for her brother, Lester, to settle a dispute. He was told that no one had seen Lester and that his sisters were at home alone. Spunk claimed they were lying and started in the house to see for himself. Letha snatched a knife from one of her younger sisters and cut him "from asshole to appetite" as she is quick to recall. When the sheriff came, Letha was vindicated as there were witnesses to corroborate that Spunk was asked to leave peacefully. Later that evening Spunk's sisters appeared with the intention of vindicating their brother. Letha didn't back down.

"Y'all want some of what your brother got?" she asked. His sisters left peacefully.

There's another story of a woman who came to the house looking for her husband. Aunt Letha beat the woman down and sent her home while the husband was in the house. I heard this story during an exchange between the sisters, who are so close that when one has a doctor appointment, they all go... after which they go to lunch. On one such occasion, when I was chauffering, they were discussing their old potential suitors.

"I could have married Dookie McRae," Aunt Letha said

"I don't remember you ever going with someone who wasn't married to someone else," my grandmother responded and the conversation continued.

In Letha's own words..."I was a bitch in Mount Vernon."

She was the mother of one son, whose father was a local (white) planter. She had to leave town because she "knocked" the planter's wife "upside her head." Auntie Zora had to sneak back to town to scurry Letha out under the cover of night.

She joined her big sister in Long Branch, where she went to work as a domestician for the Lefkowitz family. She calmed down sufficiently, but I'm sure she still carried some kind of weapon, because folks continued to give her wide berth. She would still drink, smoke and curse like a man, but she was a good Christian gal, singing in the choir.

After a few years she returned to Mount Vernon to get her son, whom she brought back to Long Branch. She was a devoted mother to a son who was somewhat of a ladies man. Before he was out of high school he became a father, but despite pressure from his baby mama's family, Letha refused to let him marry until he finished school. Around the same time he became a father again to a second child with another woman.

When Letha returned with her son, she also brought back one of her sisters and a niece, whom she raised to adulthood and sent to college with her own coin. Being a working mother and grandmother did not deter Letha from an active social calendar. She kept herself a gentleman friend. One in particular was the married brother of one of her church sisters.

She told me in 1950 she changed her life and gave up the married man. She was never a homewrecker. She didn't want to live with a man. She just wanted one to drop by from to time. She remained active in church and civic organizations and gave up smoking. She still took a drink on festive occasions. I believe it was an illness that changed her perspective, but I'm not sure what. I must have a conversation with one of her remaining sisters.

As long as I have known her she's taken pride in her appearance, to the point of vanity. When she stepped out of her house she was always well put together. She's worn a wig all my life and would never be seen in public without it. She would keep one by the door just in case someone came by unannounced. One of my favorite stories involves her great-granddaughter, whom she would babysit on weekends.

Someone knocked on her door one day. Knowing who it was, Aunt Letha went to answer it without head gear. The little girl, who couldn't have been more than 2-years old, screamed "Grandma, get your wig! Get your wig!"

Even though she had a stepmother and older sister, she became the family matriarch and ruled with absolute authority. If Letha said it was to be done... it was done... with no argument.

In her late seventies she decided she wanted a home of her own and had one built, from the ground, in her hometown. She moved in late 1997. The following year we began to realize she had lost a great deal of her hearing. We noticed that if she wasn't looking at you, when you spoke, she would not respond. Our suggestion to get a hearing aid was always met with the same response.

"I don't need no damn hearing aid." Vanity. Eventually she gave in and agreed to get one, but she didn't like it one bit.

In 1999 she lost her son and, soon after, began showing symptoms of dementia. She was diagnosed as being in the first stages of Alzheimer's and started medication. Eventually, she was removed from her home to live with her granddaughters, who took phenomenal care of her. The demands of caring for her soon became too much for them and last year she was placed in a facility in Cedar Grove, New Jersey.

The last time I saw her she looked wonderful, but her mind was definitely doing a dance. Thankfully, she still recognized all of us.

A few Easters ago, I made the desserts and she demanded to know, "Who baked this cake?"

"I did, Aunt Letha," I said.

"You did? That's a damn good cake," she replied.

In a few minutes the conversation would repeat. After the fifth time I told her that she baked it.

"I did?" she asked. She cocked her head and said, "I did not... but I can make a damn good one." She's right. She was always the cake baker in the family.

I know it's not right, but because of a dream I'm looking, tentatively, at a March 30 expiration date. Tomorrow I will be dragging my ass over to Cedar Grove to see my Aunt Letha. I'll let you know how she's doing and how I'm doing. I'm a big punk ass so there may be tears and trauma.