“I am not an angel,’ I asserted; ‘and I will not be one till I die: I will be myself.'”*

by chuckofish

My mother was a middle child. She had an older and a younger sister. The younger sister was one of those “surprises” that comes along seven years after the second child and that everyone immediately loves. Born in 1933, Donna was the next best thing to Shirley Temple–adorable.

1935

1935

When my mother was a sophomore in college and her little sister was 12, she saved her money and had Donna’s portrait taken because she thought she was so beautiful. She gave it to her mother as a surprise for Christmas. Wow. (I can’t help feeling a bit sorry for Sister #1 who probably gave her mother a nice set of hankies or something and no doubt felt a little like Cal in East of Eden when his brother upstages him.) My mother, of course, only wanted to preserve the beauty of her sister for their mother.

This is not "the" picture--I don't have a copy--but here she is graduating from high school.

This is not “the” picture–I don’t have a copy–but here she is graduating from high school.

Daughter #3 was their mother’s favorite and that never bothered my mother. It seemed perfectly natural and understandable. Her good looks were more than matched by her sweet, yet spunky, personality.

Through the years, because my Aunt Donna lived on the east coast and we lived far away in our flyover state, we didn’t see each other very much. When we did, though, she was always glad to see me and made me feel loved and appreciated. When I had long hair, she would ask to brush it and would do so as if it was a privilege. I can’t say that I have ever known anyone else like her in my life. She is like someone out of the Bible. Ruth or Priscilla.

Since my mother died almost 25 years ago, Donna has always been there when our own mother would be particularly missed. She went all the way to England for my sister’s wedding and, as usual, rolled up her sleeves and asked what she could do to help.

Donna89

I remember she spent hours with 4 1/2-year old daughter #1 making some sort of floral arrangements and sat with the poor sick 2-year old boy on her lap on the long plane ride home. She was here last summer for the boy’s wedding.

Today my Aunt Donna turns 80. Bless her heart. This calls for champagne!

* The quote is from Jane Eyre, in case you’ve forgotten!