But for the grace of God, there go I.

Please pray for Katie Granju and her son.  Katie's teenage son is recovering from a traumatic brain injury and drug addiction.  Katie is eight months pregnant.  She is bravely writing about her son's struggle. When I was leading breastfeeding support meetings on Long Island, Katie's book, Attachment Parenting - Instinctive Care For Your Baby and Young Child was the most popular book in our group's lending library.  That book provided countless mothers with information and support.  You can read Katie's blog here.

"She never had an education, She uses life as her vocation, Standing on ledges clinging to the edges, The world's a hard place to land on..." Elsie, by the Divinyls

If you take the Long Island Expressway, you can still see her, every day, rain or shine, on the Service Road, in her big yellow hot dog wagon. My Aunt Elsie, at 80 years of age, gets up in the morning and sets her truck for the day's hard work. Her kosher hot dogs are a treat. I recommend you have one with her special onions and cheese, but if you are from out of state, you'll want the traditional New York dog, with sauerkraut and mustard - and she'll give it to you, with a smile, a funny story, or a piece of her mind, depending on her mood.

My Aunt Elsie was the neatest grown up I had ever met. She was not like any of the others. She was never too busy to talk to me. She treated me like I was special, and when we came to visit, she paid more attention to me than anyone ever had. In many ways, she was like a fairy godmother. When I was a very little girl, maybe four years old, and we would visit New York, it was overwhelming. It was loud, and confusing. Everything smelled funny, and people would switch languages and I never knew what they were talking about, and they all looked alike, so I could not tell them apart. All these strangers that were my family were really strange to me. What were they saying? What were they trying to get me to eat? Why did they laugh at me when I put butter on my rice? I could never quite get anything right, and I felt like I was being swallowed up in this loud ocean. Everyone else was having fun, like they were at a beach party, and I was lost at sea. In the midst of the mayhem, just as I felt like I was about to go under, my Aunt Elsie would come and find me, and she would take me aside and into her magical world – the garage.

Aunt Elsie’s magical garage was the most wonderful place I had ever been – filled with more soda than I had ever seen – and not just Coke-ola. Aunt Elsie had sodas in flavors! Orange and Grape! And most wonderful of all, a special drink that I thought she invented right there – Yoohoo. It was not chocolate milk, and it was not soda. It was chilly and smooth, and Aunt Elsie said I could have as much of it as I wanted.

I had never been in a garage before. I remember the feel of the cold cement on my bare feet, and if I close my eyes I can still remember the smell. It was the most glorious smell. the essence of nine million white bread hotdog buns – and sugar – an abundance of Reeces cups and chewing gum, and the slightest, lightest, loveliest smell of all – one I can’t quite describe. It floated above all the other smells in that cool, dark haven. It might have been the mingling of onions entwining with the scent of tobacco from fresh cartons of unopened cigarettes, I’m not sure. Could it have been something else? I think so. I suspect it might have been the smell of a fat wad of cash she kept, rolled up and wrapped in a rubber band. This wad of cash would mysteriously appear, and Aunt Elsie would peel off a couple of singles and press them into my little hands. “For candy,” she would say. “Here! Take it!” Holy Mother of Happiness! I was in kid Heaven. My Aunt Elsie had a garage full of candy, and she was paying me to eat it!

The next morning she would take me with her, in her truck, to get her meat. She drove across Long Island into some mysterious neighborhood – I think it might have been the Bronx. I was on the ride of my life! Aunt Elsie could drive and talk at the same time, and she didn’t even have to look at the road! She was always looking back over her shoulder, at me. It was exhilarating to ride with Aunt Elsie. More exciting than The Cyclone at Cony Island. A ride with Aunt Elsie was a trip like no other.

Aunt Elsie took me on several special trips. She took me to the corner of Madison and 118th street, and told me what it was like when my mother was born, and pointed out where Grandma ran the store. Once she took me to the automat in New York City. It was the most amazing place. There was a whole wall of little glass windows. The sun reflected off them, and when we first walked in I did not understand what it was because I could not see, but she took me close and let me take my time looking through all the little windows – then she bought me a piece of lemon meringue pie.

Aunt Elsie had a little poodle, and she would let me walk it. I remember being very upset when the poodle peed on a mailbox, but Aunt Elsie laughed and explained to me that dogs do that, and it was ok, because the dog just wanted all the other dogs to know it had been there. Aunt Elsie always took time to explain things to me.

When my mother and father celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary, Aunt Elsie came to Kentucky. I was not quite 12 years old, and I was acting out, being rebellious toward my mother. I wanted to wear a glamorous dress and high heels, like my sister Jane wore. My mother forced me into submission and made me wear a dress appropriate for my age, with little blue flat shoes. Instead of buying me a bra, which she insisted I did not need, Mom bought me little white ankle socks to wear with these little flat shoes. I was humiliated, and I was being a horrible brat about the whole thing, but Aunt Elsie took me aside and worked her magic.

We went into the dime store, and she bought me real pantyhose to wear with the dress. She also got some robin’s egg blue ribbon, the same color as my little flat shoes, and she sat down with a couple of twist ties and bobby pins, and fashioned the ribbon into bows for my hair. I had never had a hair bow, and it transformed me. She fixed my hair, taught me how to put on the pantyhose, then let me help her put on her makeup. She showed me her beauty tricks, and I was impressed. She had a little stick of cocoa butter, that looked like a translucent lipstick, and she rubbed this on her cheeks. Then she dabbed a little lipstick on top of that. Voila! Her blush perfectly matched her lipstick. Aunt Elsie understood beauty, and she made me feel like I was beautiful, too.

When I got older and we would visit New York, Aunt Elsie still treated me like I was special. She let me go on her truck with her and sell hot dogs, which was really fun. She also took me to my first Pentacostal tent revival, which was not nearly as much fun as working the truck. It went on all day and into the evening. I fell asleep at one point and she thought I had been hit by the Spirit. She tugged on me and woke me up and tried to get me to go to the front where they were casting out demons and such. I knew I was not ready to be born again, since I was pretty sure I was born right the first time. I felt torn, because I did not want to disappoint my dear Aunt, but there was no way in Hell I was going down to the front of that crowd.

Lucky for me, my little brother Kelly felt moved by the Spirit, and his conversion both thrilled and distracted her. After the service, Aunt Elsie took us to Friendly’s and bought me my first patty melt. Over buttery grilled bread, melted cheese, sautéd onions and a meat patty, she told me it was the devil that made me want to wear that tight sweater. I was to watch myself, and remain pure, so as to make it hard for the many demons that were waiting to possess me. Say what you want about my Aunt Elsie, but there is no one else out there ready to battle the beasts of Hell for our souls. She has our back.

When we lived in Kentucky, Aunt Elsie would call my mother on Saturday mornings. We always knew when she was on the phone, because Dad would leave the receiver on the table and walk upstairs to get my mom. If mom was in the bathroom, the phone would sit there like that for quite some time until one of us picked it up. We would pick it up midstory, and Aunt Elsie would just be talking away, unaware that no one was there. I would fuss at my father about this. He would just laugh and say, “It does not matter. She doesn’t know. Elsie’s phone has no ear-piece, only a mouth piece!” We laughed about this, but we treasured her calls.

When I was in college, Aunt Elsie sent me a plane ticket to New York for Christmas. My friend Paul came with me, and we had a blast. We were only supposed to stay for a week, but we had so much fun we stayed for almost three. When Aunt Elsie picked us up at Newark, she took one look at Paul, and sized him up and down. Then she saw the three suitcases he packed for the trip, and her eyes got really big. She was scared. “How many days are you planning to stay?” she asked, “because it looks to me the way you packed, you think you are moving in! Don’t think you are going to move in with me. Only able bodied men can move in with me, and they have to pay rent. No free rides, you hear?” Aunt Elsie nicknamed him Three Suit Cases, but when she decided she liked him, she called him Three Suits for short.

I asked Paul to send a memory about Aunt Elsie from that trip and this is what he wrote:

The first, best memory of Aunt Elsie is when she picked us up in Newark and started quizzing me on if I knew where I was going to be staying for the week. I said "Long Island," and she said, "LonGisland". I said "Long Island" and she said LonGisland!". Repeat, getting louder and louder until I finally realize she's putting the stress on the "G".

So here I am, some young pipsqueak from Kentucky, in NY for the first time in my life and within a half hour of hitting the tarmac I got some crazy lady screaming at me while she's driving in cross-town traffic, "LonGisland! LonGisland! LonGisland!" Of course I fell in love with her instantly. It wasn't until later, when I tasted her hotdogs that I realized she was too good for me.

Please tell her I wish her a *very* Happy 80th! And let her know that I am still a compulsive over-packer.

When Paul and I left for the airport to return to Kentucky, Aunt Elsie hugged me goodbye, and pressed a wad of cash into my hands, for candy. That candy money paid for my college text books for the following semester.

When I left college and moved to New York, Aunt Elsie was good to me. I was living in an apartment in Queens, bringing home $212.00 a week, and paying $200 a week in rent. Aunt Elsie knew I was always broke, so she would show up at my apartment with hotdogs, pantyhose, coffee, milk, and little things she thought I might need. I was lonely, and I really appreciated those visits. Sometimes she would take me down to Jamaica Avenue and we would shop at May’s. Other times, on my favorite nights, she would check to find out when it was big trash night on the North shore. On big trash night people would put out their furniture and old televisions and things too big for the regular garbage pickup. She would pick me up and we would carouse the very best neighborhoods looking for furniture. People on the North shore did not put out junk. They knew quality - and Aunt Elsie had an appreciation for quality, especially abandoned quality on the side of the road. I still have a coffee table from Manhasset. Sometimes we would stop at Carmela’s. Other times we would just cruise, treasure hunting. At the end of a good night, she would drop me off at my apartment and press a few dollars into my hand. If I tried to protest she would say, “For candy! Spend it on candy!”

When I married and moved to Long Island, Aunt Elsie would come to my cottage in Amityville for coffee. When I was pregnant, she doted on me, and told me stories. She helped me sew the white eyelet cover for Eden’s bassinet, and she loved on my babies like nobody else. Before Eden was born, Aunt Elsie sat at the kitchen table with me and patiently folded envelopes I was making in which to mail the birth announcements. When Eden was born, at Good Samaritan hospital, my other wonderful aunts came to the hospital for visiting hours, but there was no Aunt Elsie. At the end of visiting hours, she burst onto the maternity ward as if she had been shot from a cannon. She had two dozen pink roses, and a bad attitude. She was angry. Or, as Aunt Elsie would say, “She was howyousay ANGRY! A! N! G! R! Y!” When Aunt Elsie feels passionately about something, she is likely to, howyousay, spell it out. Aunt Elsie can spell, and she can curse, in both languages.

She was all riled up that night, as only she can get. They would not let her see her niece! Can you believe the nerve of them? Never mind that she had been down the street, at Southside Hospital, and I had the baby at Good Sam. They should have let her see her niece! She had been giving them Hell, those yellow rat bastards! She was there, and they were refusing to let her onto the maternity ward. Finally, one of the nurses called Good Sam, and found out where I was, and sent her on her way. As she told the story, Aunts Minerva and Raquel collapsed in a fit of laughter, Aunt Raquel telling her to calm down, because she was here now, and Aunt Minnie saying, “They wouldn’t let you up because of your hair! They were afraid you would scare the babies! What’s wrong with you? Don’t you own a mirror? Look at your hair! Stop scaring the babies!” That’s when Aunt Elsie started to laugh, too. She said, “I must look like Whodunitandrun! I didn’t have time to fix my hair! I had to get to the hospital! I had to see my neice!” then there was a slight pause, “But I do have my eyebrows on!” and we all laughed some more.

When I got home from the hospital, she came to visit again, and when she thought I was not looking, she took my baby over to the sink, real sly-like, and baptized her in the tap water. That’s my Aunt Elsie, looking out for my baby’s soul. If only everyone had an Aunt like her.

This is what I remember most: The laughter, the love. The way she looked out for me. The way all my Aunts come when they are needed and shower us with love. All my aunts have given me something special. Aunt Virginia gave me shelter when I needed it most, and taught me to make pernil (use plenty of garlic). Aunt Maria taught me how to make empanadas (you can bake them, but they taste better fried) and gave me stories that helped me understand our family. Aunt Minerva taught me how to make rice and beans (it's perfectly acceptable to use the Goya beans in a can and a packet of Sazon). Aunt Minerva also took me to my first mall, and bought me my first soft pretzel. She taught me that once I was a married woman, my status was changed, and I was equal to every other married woman. Aunt Raquel reminds me how important it is to stay connected with family. When I've suffered loss, it has been Aunt Raquel who called me, and offered comfort, and although she never took me to a tent revival, I know there were times when she prayed for me. All my Aunts are special, but my Aunt Elsie, well she loves me best, and always has. She was my fairy godmother. I am so very blessed.