What Will Become of Aunt Zelda?
My husband’s Aunt Zelda has managed to thoroughly piss off most people who have ever tried to befriend her, as well as many who have not. At our wedding, I recall that she said some really insensitive things about the best man’s wife being fat, which did not need to be said. She’s one of those people who knows how to give advice but refuses to ever take it.
I first met Zelda on that initial awkward visit to Detroit to meet the greater family, still feeling angry about my earlier visit pre-conversion-to-Judaism when my husband’s parents had treated me like a ghost. At that point Zelda was in her 60s, with coifed bottle-blond hair and still talking about all the men she had turned down in her life-time, choosing never to marry. She told me that she wanted to sing at our wedding and I politely said, "No, thank you," having other ideas about the music I wanted. I could see then that Zelda was a self-proclaimed psychologist, looking for a way to insert herself in everyone else’s life and always telling stories about her own life, many of which were rather sad.
The big pivotal moment in her life was when she was put under for some sort of surgery as a fairly young woman, to wake up and find a breast missing. The real tragedy is that she didn’t learn until years later that it was malignant because no one told her. I just found this story to be utterly unbelievable. Over the years, we have heard about how a boarder in their small farm home sexually abused her, about how her own mother verbally abused her, asking why she had been a girl instead of the boy she wanted. Oy vey! If these stories were really true, Zelda had every reason to be totally screwed up.
Zelda’s reputation in the family was always as "the independent one." She went off alone to make her way in Chicago. She supported herself, hoarded and invested her money, and lived like a pauper. She worked for Heineken’s as a glorified secretary and got all the beer she could drink. To this day, Zelda lives alone in an efficiency apartment on Chicago’s northside. She is generous to a fault with everyone in the family, except herself.
There were always boyfriends along the way. Her last boyfriend was 99 when he died after falling and breaking his hip. He had been driving up until that point and they had been a serious number.
Zelda has always prided herself on her voice. Although we didn’t let her sing during the wedding ceremony, she befriended the piano player at the reception and launched into "Sunrise, Sunset" during the reception. That evening as we were collapsing in exhaustion from the wedding, Zelda was out with one of my former boyfriends who attended the wedding (30 years younger than she was) at the bar where Eric, the gay piano player from our wedding, was performing. She continued to sing back in Chicago, volunteering her time at a home for Jewish senior citizens.
Today Zelda is 97 years old. She suffers from macular degeneration. My husband received a call from her bank yesterday, expressing concern about her ability to manage her affairs, especially since she can’t see to read or write any longer. Now, tell me how this woman continues to live on her own! His reaction was, "Why me? I really don’t want to have to deal with this. With her. I’m probably going to have to go out to Chicago and do something about this situation." She had inflicted her pain even on him at times in the past.
All of a sudden, I found myself feeling an overwhelming pity for this woman who had fought so hard to be independent all these years and who was simply not winning against nature. Maybe it’s because I no longer have parents or an elderly aunt to worry about. Maybe I just can’t hold grudges against her any longer for all the times she’s said things which I didn’t want to hear. I somehow want her to live the remainder of her life in some sort of dignity, sparing her the degradation of having to be shackled.
I first met Zelda on that initial awkward visit to Detroit to meet the greater family, still feeling angry about my earlier visit pre-conversion-to-Judaism when my husband’s parents had treated me like a ghost. At that point Zelda was in her 60s, with coifed bottle-blond hair and still talking about all the men she had turned down in her life-time, choosing never to marry. She told me that she wanted to sing at our wedding and I politely said, "No, thank you," having other ideas about the music I wanted. I could see then that Zelda was a self-proclaimed psychologist, looking for a way to insert herself in everyone else’s life and always telling stories about her own life, many of which were rather sad.
The big pivotal moment in her life was when she was put under for some sort of surgery as a fairly young woman, to wake up and find a breast missing. The real tragedy is that she didn’t learn until years later that it was malignant because no one told her. I just found this story to be utterly unbelievable. Over the years, we have heard about how a boarder in their small farm home sexually abused her, about how her own mother verbally abused her, asking why she had been a girl instead of the boy she wanted. Oy vey! If these stories were really true, Zelda had every reason to be totally screwed up.
Zelda’s reputation in the family was always as "the independent one." She went off alone to make her way in Chicago. She supported herself, hoarded and invested her money, and lived like a pauper. She worked for Heineken’s as a glorified secretary and got all the beer she could drink. To this day, Zelda lives alone in an efficiency apartment on Chicago’s northside. She is generous to a fault with everyone in the family, except herself.
There were always boyfriends along the way. Her last boyfriend was 99 when he died after falling and breaking his hip. He had been driving up until that point and they had been a serious number.
Zelda has always prided herself on her voice. Although we didn’t let her sing during the wedding ceremony, she befriended the piano player at the reception and launched into "Sunrise, Sunset" during the reception. That evening as we were collapsing in exhaustion from the wedding, Zelda was out with one of my former boyfriends who attended the wedding (30 years younger than she was) at the bar where Eric, the gay piano player from our wedding, was performing. She continued to sing back in Chicago, volunteering her time at a home for Jewish senior citizens.
Today Zelda is 97 years old. She suffers from macular degeneration. My husband received a call from her bank yesterday, expressing concern about her ability to manage her affairs, especially since she can’t see to read or write any longer. Now, tell me how this woman continues to live on her own! His reaction was, "Why me? I really don’t want to have to deal with this. With her. I’m probably going to have to go out to Chicago and do something about this situation." She had inflicted her pain even on him at times in the past.
All of a sudden, I found myself feeling an overwhelming pity for this woman who had fought so hard to be independent all these years and who was simply not winning against nature. Maybe it’s because I no longer have parents or an elderly aunt to worry about. Maybe I just can’t hold grudges against her any longer for all the times she’s said things which I didn’t want to hear. I somehow want her to live the remainder of her life in some sort of dignity, sparing her the degradation of having to be shackled.
posted by Barbara at 10:43 AM
7 Comments:
A very compelling story and a very interesting moral dilemma. Is it right to take care of someone who has treated everyone in their life poorly? Would that be circumventing the karma she so richly deserves? Is it possible to make a decision like that without taking into account the contents of their Will?
I have cared for an older person who treated me poorly, and trust me, the irony is ever present during the caregiving. I'm sure anyone put in that position will invariably rise to the occasion and do the right thing, while being silent on past injustices. I feed some older widows in my neighborhood. It started with just Thanksgiving, but it's expanded, a bit. I blogged about one today. She's 94 and still living on her own, and it is frightening, isn't it, to mentally put yourself in that position at some point down the road, and be fearful of all of the indignities that come with old age and failing health.
AUA and Cube -- I think you read this exactly as I intended it to read. It is a moral dilemma. I've just had a dinnertime conversation with my husband who thought I portrayed him as a total asshole in terms of his initial response. Not at all true and certainly not what I intended. (This touches on blogger ethics, the topic for another post to be sure.) In all fairness to him, his real first question was more like "Why me when there are other neices and nephews to choose from?" Unfortunately he is the most responsible and he is listed jointly on her accounts with the bank, so the bank didn't know about anyone else. He spent most of the day making phone calls without a whole lot of success. Then he called Zelda directly, who of course claimed not to need any help. It may take a long time to bring this issue to closure because Zelda is one tough bird!
That was not my first question. It was about my 20th! I wondered what the letter to the bank really meant. I wondered what I could do and how? When and if I need to go to Chicago? How will I fit this in my schedule, which had just gotten much busier earlier that same day, etc, etc.
All great questions, David. Interestingly enough (at least to me), my husband has/had an Aunt Zelda as well. Also an eccentric lady who devoted her life to her artist husband Gershon. I have lost track of her, although Frank may know whether she is still in Brooklyn. She would be 90+ as well.
Cube: I still think the dilemma remains what is "the right thing"?
My best to you and David, Barbara, as you work this out, hopefully with Zelda's ability to recognize what her needs are at this point.
Kate
I normally don't get into much personal information in blogging, but I feel I have to speak further on this. From a very young age, I was the one who was considered responsible, and you would never have guessed it, yet there you go. What has life taught me so far? That in any given family, there is always ONE, and usually only one person who steps up to the plate to deal with the problem. I understood your husband's position COMPLETELY. We each have our own problems to be dealing with, yet repeatedly we see others in our families sliding through and never lifting a finger.
I had family caregiving shoved on me at what I would call a too young age. Why on earth should life rob me and make me face these horrors, yet I did. I will tell you this. Having watched illness and death, I know this about my own character, and I would bet your husband does too (you may as well): You are brave. You do not run away. You know how to face some of the worst stuff life can throw in your path and you deal with it. You may shudder. You may rebel. You may recoil. But that lasts seconds. And then you do it. Not everyone can say that. You can.
I had a dream this morning. Maybe even reading your blog triggered this, but I think it was other things on my mind like checking in on the 94-year old because she had misplaced her remote control and God forbid she couldn't watch CNN to argue with the news. I was carrying around Gwyneth Paltrow's next baby around in my arms, while she was off doing vain, self-serving things. The baby was doing precocious things that she (Gwyneth) gave bare acknowledgment to. At one point I was carrying the baby across a theatre stage and the curtain came up, and the baby spoke, greeting the arriving theatre goers. It was all...very odd, especially given that I have zero interest in Paltrow. What do I think it means? That I am usually the responsible child that gets stuck with all of the disagreeable, wearing things others walk away from. Does that give me any comfort knowing I am that responsible? No. I am human. I get resentful.
I almost didn't feed my little group of widows that I described earlier, for Thanksgiving, because it was two days before I arrived back from Cape Cod (after being gone two months), and I was weary of it. Guess what I did? Yep. And I am glad I did. You cannot imagine what joy it gave these women to eat turkey and have the traditional things everyone expects to have on that day. Your husband will do this for Zelda. He's human if he grumbles. The responsible ones have the right to grumble. It's the irresponsible who have the luxury of remaining silent.
Cube -- You have offered some amazing insight into your being. It does sound like you and my husband have some parallels in terms of your track record for acting responsibly. He's extremely good at figuring out logically what needs to be done and then making it happen. He doesn't like to make waves, but rather would go to great lengths to keep peace in the family. I just happened to be around in one of those rare moments when he actually verbalized his frustration at being called on yet one more time.
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