Rambling Rose
My Aim Is True
- Joined
- Jul 11, 2001
- Posts
- 10,901
When I was 15 my mother moved in with a landscape architect, who had a gorgeous antebellum home in the garden district that he was restoring. This was not a romance (that would come for her soon enough in the body of her now husband of 20 years) but a friendship between my mother and the first openly gay man I ever knew. His best friend Jimmy rented the little mother-in-law's cottage at the back of the property.
On hot summer nights they would sit outside on the porch drinking Bloody Marys and talking, their laughter splitting the relative quiet of the neighborhood while the sky turned dark.
Both men were clever and loved teasing both of us, but Jimmy had a nurturing, almost mothering quality that made a soft spot in my heart for him. I called him Gladys or Aunt Gladys if I was feeling sassy and it stuck. We were so broke at times that, in order to keep our spirits high, the three of them would hold these contests where the winner was whoever could feed the four of us for under $5. It was amazing the feasts that were eaten for that sum!
Aunt Gladys made me my first real cocktail (a gin martini - very dry), sold me my first car, and taught me how to crack a bullwhip at a drag show in Mobile, Alabama. He tried in vain to repair my hair when it went from waist length to my earlobes one disastrous afternoon at the salon, and didn't get angry when I cried and said I hated it. He was the only person allowed to smoke in my parent's house and car once my mother quit. He was always just a very dear and special friend to us. He was family.
My Aunt Gladys died in his sleep this afternoon. He was two years younger than my mother. I miss him already.
Goodbye friend.
On hot summer nights they would sit outside on the porch drinking Bloody Marys and talking, their laughter splitting the relative quiet of the neighborhood while the sky turned dark.
Both men were clever and loved teasing both of us, but Jimmy had a nurturing, almost mothering quality that made a soft spot in my heart for him. I called him Gladys or Aunt Gladys if I was feeling sassy and it stuck. We were so broke at times that, in order to keep our spirits high, the three of them would hold these contests where the winner was whoever could feed the four of us for under $5. It was amazing the feasts that were eaten for that sum!
Aunt Gladys made me my first real cocktail (a gin martini - very dry), sold me my first car, and taught me how to crack a bullwhip at a drag show in Mobile, Alabama. He tried in vain to repair my hair when it went from waist length to my earlobes one disastrous afternoon at the salon, and didn't get angry when I cried and said I hated it. He was the only person allowed to smoke in my parent's house and car once my mother quit. He was always just a very dear and special friend to us. He was family.
My Aunt Gladys died in his sleep this afternoon. He was two years younger than my mother. I miss him already.
Goodbye friend.
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