Etta Babe
I looked at my phone last night as we sat down to the camp fire. I had a text message. I clicked on it and it was from my Aunt who was at a conference in Hawaii. She wrote how she was getting on a plane today and heading home because my great aunt Etta Babe had passed away at around 10am on Saturday.
Etta Babe was the last living sister of my Grandmomma Neeley. She was the most loving, most amazing woman you could ever hope to meet. She made the best cinnamon toast and cinnamon rolls on the planet. She and her beloved Crawford lived on Spring Lake in Huntsville, Tx and every Fourth of July weekend, the entire Neeley clan would descend upon them for the annual family reunion.
We would swim and eat and laugh and love and those reunions comprise some of my best childhood memories. There was a small island and a big island in the lake and the children would have races to see if we could swim to the small island which was grassy and had a tree on it. The large island was overgrown and, in our mind, quite dangerous and forbidden. There was a peddle boat we would play on and cruise round the lake with. It was small and light enough that two children could peddle hard and fast enough to propel it. We’d rescue one another from the island and when someone couldn’t swim anymore.
I water skied for the first and only time of my life on that lake. I took to it fairly well and was able to stay up for quite a while, even when we cross cut my wake. I sailed for the first time on that lake - my father manning the small craft’s rigging and getting thoroughly frustrated with me when he finally caught the perfect wind (and I wanted to get out) that he sailed up to the shallows (where all my family was standing and playing) and threw me overboard so he didn’t lose the breeze.
We’d fire the cannon when A&M would win their game and ring the old bell in the back yard. If you ran down the back barefoot you’d have to avoid all the prickly sweet gum balls littering the lawn. Ducks would lazily drift by and beg for bread crumbs. And if you were very daring, you went to the other side of the lake where the overflow spilled down a culvert pipe & would grab a raft and ride the current.
When you came out of the lake, Etta Babe and Sister would chide you about having wet hair. There was no swimming until at least an hour after eating for fear you’d cramp up and drown. Trash and cheese balls were a staple snack and make sure you use the right tincy fork for the pickles!
Etta Babe always spoke to children as if they were small adults - never condescendingly but always with love, respect, and a wink - she knew you understood, even if you didn’t know you did. She had what we’d now call vintage board games in her front bedroom closet and the best pull out couch in a tiny room off the sitting room to sleep on. That home was so filled with love that you couldn’t ignore it.
At 4pm, the prisms hanging in her kitchen window would catch the light just right and the kitchen would be filled with rainbows. Etta Babe had a magic about her.