Aunt Nini and Uncle Will

When I was a child, my mother's aunt and uncle came to live with us.  I don't remember a time before they lived with us, I think they moved into my Mom and Dad's house in the summer of 1962.

At that time, Mom and Dad had four kids under the age of five, in a four room house with an expansion attic.  Mom and Dad used Time-Life Home Improvement books to finish most of the work in the attic to make three bedrooms and a half bath.

Uncle Will died shortly before my third birthday, but Aunt Nini (pronounced Nee-Nee) lived with us until I was nineteen, when she broke her hip and had to move to a nursing home.  She lived there until she died in 1983.

When I was growing up, I often thought about what a great guy my dad was to allow my mother to move her aunt and uncle into their house when it was already crowded with four children and two adults.  It wasn't until after my father died that I learned the real story.

Uncle Will was thirteen years older than Aunt Nini, and he was in failing health.  Uncle Will and Aunt Nini had no pensions, just Social Security, and Uncle Will's health care expenses had depleted most of their savings.  They were facing homelessness.

Uncle Will approached my father, and offered him the rest of their life savings to put the addition on the house, and to contribute to the household expenses through most of their Social Security, my father generously moved Aunt Nini and Uncle Will into our house.

I learned from my mother after Daddy died that Uncle Will and Aunt Nini's life savings was less than three hundred dollars.  Now three hundred dollars was a lot more money in 1962 than it is in 2017, but not enough to put an addition on a house.  My dad knew the deal he was getting.  He just couldn't bear the thought of Aunt Nini and Uncle Will having no where to go.

Our lives were so greatly enriched by having Aunt Nini and Uncle Will, and then Aunt Nini share our home.  When my daughter was a child, I often wished I had an Aunt Nini to live with me.

You see, Aunt Nini taught me how to brush hair without pulling, and along with her sister, my grandmother, taught me to sew, and embroider, and crochet, and darn, and iron, and cook.  Aunt Nini had the time to be patient with us.  She had the time to tell stories, and to listen to stories.  We were the only children on my Mom's side of the family (among her siblings), but my Mom's cousins were also Aunt Nini's nieces and nephews, so we saw them more than we would have otherwise when they came to visit her.

All of my cousin's on my Dad's side grew up calling Aunt Nini their aunt.  Every girl cousin, and every bride of a boy cousin received a hand crocheted afghan as a shower gift before their marriage.  I hear from my cousin's and their wives that many of those afghans are still in use.

Back to having an Aunt Nini.  Going on a trip? No worries about a pet sitter, Aunt Nini is here.  Sick child?  No worries about who will stay home from work, Aunt Nini is here.  Summer vacation?  No need for camp or child care, Aunt Nini is here.  The only normal I knew involved three generational living.  There was always another adult in a pinch.

That doesn't mean that we didn't have baby sitters.  When we were all small, Mom and Dad always got support in for Aunt Nini, but she was the constant presence in the house.  When you believed that Mom and Dad were mean, she had a gentle way of pointing out that they were just trying to help you grow up right.  When you felt lonely, she was there with stories, and with listening, and with the distraction of a new craft to learn.

It wasn't all perfect having three generations in the house, and after my daughter was born, four generations, but it was an amazing blessing.

My Dad's act of generosity to Uncle Will and Aunt Nini became a gift to all of us.  There is so much I know that I wouldn't know, there were so many comforts I wouldn't have enjoyed, there was so much security that would have not existed if we hadn't experienced having Aunt Nini and Uncle Will in our home.

Often we reach a crossroads where we have to make the choice to reach out a hand of kindness, and sacrifice some comfort.  Because of growing up the way I did, I was blessed to see that the reach of kindness bestows blessings you can't even imagine.   And it is always worth it.