Growing up in The Bahamas, I was always aware that I belonged to an uncommonly large extended family – composed of men and women who command a great deal of attention and respect. For a shy boy like me, this had many (vicarious and fringe) benefits.
But my shyness also meant that I participated as little more than a potted plant at family gatherings. Yet there was benefit in this too; not least because it allowed me to observe (and be entertained by) everybody else.
Oh the things I observed…. But this is not the occasion or place for all that.
I share the above only to recall fond memories of observing my Aunt Titt interacting with family members of her generation much as I did with those of mine.
Not that she was a potted plant too, mind you. No, she was far too beautiful. If anything, she participated more like an elegant floral centerpiece: admired and talked about, but somehow beyond approach (or reproach) … and shy.
Of course, even if I weren’t so shy, the “generation gap” was such back then that getting to know an aunt or uncle consisted primarily of them picking up where the preacher left off in church, throwing in a question or two about school to show a little personal interest. No doubt this concept will seem alien to kids of today – who see their parents competing daily with aunts and uncles to be their best friends. But those were the days … .
The point is that, as fond as I was of Aunt Titt, I cannot say I ever really “knew” her. Alas, this holds true for all of my aunts and uncles.
To be fair, though, it did not help that I left The Bahamas in my mid-teens. After all, this not only stunted opportunities for me to branch out during family gatherings, but also meant that I wasn’t around when that generation gap began closing … even in my family.
Nonetheless, what I can say is that, based on the little interaction I had with all of my aunts and uncles, Aunt Titt was easily the most endearing. And this had everything to do with the fact that, unlike the others, she seemed genuinely more interested in talking to me than in preaching at (or patronizing) me.
It’s probably self-evident that I have long since overcome my boyhood shyness. In fact, so much so that family elders have come to expect me to say things, especially inconvenient truths, that get their knickers all in a twist.
Accordingly, I hereby disclose that most (if not all) of my seven sisters and seven brothers always regarded Aunt Titt’s husband, Uncle Nat, as the coolest of our fourteen aunts and thirteen uncles. I, however, always regarded her as such.
Indeed, I was so inspired by her unassuming willingness to bridge that generation gap that I made a point of showing the kind of interest in my nieces and nephews (no matter how unrequited) she showed in me.
That said, I would be remiss not to acknowledge the trials and tribulations my Aunt Titt endured with unfailing equanimity and grace. Which is why I shall end this modest tribute with homage to the religious faith that sustained her throughout her life:
“The Old Rugged Cross”
On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross,
The emblem of suff’ring and shame;
And I love that old cross where the Dearest and Best
For a world of lost sinners was slain…
So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it someday for a crown.
Aunt Titt finally laid down her burdens on February 25 in Freeport, Grand Bahama, when she died from the ravages of stomach cancer. She was 68.
Farewell, sweet aunt.