Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy then it was said among the nations, "The LORD has done great things for them."
Psalm 126:2
Auntie Marion rocked; there just isn’t a better way to put it. She was one of the most unique people that I ever met. She had an independent streak that would give the Great Wall of China a run for its money. Her genuine love for her family and her simple country ways made her a true pleasure to be around.
Marion was one of my wife’s aunts from North Yorkshire in England. The people of North Yorkshire, where my wife’s family comes from, and the people of Iredell County in North Carolina, where my family comes from, both supposedly speak English. The likelihood of either of these groups understanding each other would be quite slim, however. Both groups do speak English, but combining the dialect and the extremely strong accents of each would make the conversation between the two something that should be a spectator event; sell tickets. It would probably be the only event you would go to that would require translators with both people speaking the same language.
Marion was a frugal and self-sufficient woman that would rarely, if ever, ask another human being for assistance. Much of that attitude, as with many people of her generation, comes from her experiences during World War II.
WWII was devastating to the British people. The German blitzkriegs and the rationing of basic daily staples changed that generation in ways that still persist seventy years later. Only the lights that were absolutely imperative to be on were, and there was certainly talk about what absolutely imperative actually meant. Sugar, tea, coffee, etc. were all rationed, and families were only allotted a certain amount. Things they had once taken for granted were now at a premium to get. As a result, Marion and the rest of her generation began to learn to do without and tighten their belts a few notches in support of the war efforts.
The typical way of taking tea in England is with a little milk and a little sugar. As with coffee, some people want both, some want neither, and some want only one or the other; it is a personal taste. The prevailing presumption, however, is that everyone takes both milk and sugar. This is not much different from my own Iredell County where the assumption is that you drink your iced tea sweet, and unsweetened tea is almost seen as uncivilized.
On a trip to visit Marion, my wife was enjoying a pot of tea with her at a local garden. A number of people were there at the same time, and table space became a premium. My wife and Marion shared a larger table with some other ladies at the garden that afternoon, but had no real interaction with them. For more than half an hour Marion and my wife chatted and enjoyed the wonderfully crisp afternoon in refreshing North Yorkshire air.
After a while, my wife asked Marion if she would like some more tea. Marion did, and as typical English custom, my wife politely offered to add milk and sugar to her tea for Marion. Marion said, “Milk please dear, but no sugar.” My wife, Emma, complied with no questions.
The other ladies they were sharing the table with, however, were not about to be silent. For almost an hour now, Marion and the other ladies had barely acknowledged each other’s presence. Emma thought they were strangers who were cordially sharing their table, until one of them spoke up. “So, you don’t take sugar in your tea do ya, Marion?”
In an air that explained it all, Marion replied, “No, not since war.” At that point, the other ladies understood perfectly, and my wife was dumbfounded. She was dumbfounded over the fact that Marion and these ladies had known each other since they were children, but barely acknowledged each other. She was also dumbfounded over the fact that, “No, not since war,” seemed to explain everything.
Because of sugar rationing in WWII, many people began to learn to take their tea without sugar. The little sugar there was had been reserved for other more important things like supporting the British soldiers and sailors, or canning of fruit for later use. With those others being the primary use, tea began to take a back seat on the list of things that sugar went into. Once Marion adapted to that philosophy and learned to do without, continuing that way was no problem. Since the other lady was of the same generation, she of course needed no further explanation. She also need no explanation of which war, for to nearly all of North Yorkshire of a certain generation there really is only one war to which they may refer – World War II.
Marion’s sense of independence was just as staunch as her sense of frugality. Although her life may be in danger, Marion would insist on doing and helping no matter what. It is one of those qualities that would both endear you to Marion and frustrate you about her.
In Marion’s later years she often needed the assistance of a cane to keep herself steady. Even at that, she still enjoyed puttering around in her garden with various flowers and shrubs that would make most people in America green with envy. Her home was only about 100 years old, so it is relatively new by British standards. Her garage was the old coal shed, and on her property is what remains of an old Quaker church that hasn’t been in use for many years. Each of these aspects added a certain charm and character that is only present in these wonderful country homes in North Yorkshire. With the charm, however, come certain dangers of older equipment and the like being around.
Beside the old coal shed was an old radiator leaning up against the building. Marion’s insistence on doing things for herself, found her cleaning up around the old coal shed and trying to reposition this old radiator. In the process, the rusty piece of equipment lost balance and toppled onto Auntie Marion, pinning her to the ground. The falling radiator also caused significant damage to Marion’s leg, and her future on this earth was looking bleak.
The unshakeable Marion, however, being the stubborn Yorkshire lass that she was, was not about to let a little thing like a 200 pound radiator and a leg bleeding profusely slow her down. Using her cane, she resourcefully pried the radiator up and off her as she slid from beneath it. For a fifty-year-old person this would have been an impressive feat, but for a ninety-year-old woman this was beyond normal human belief. It did take her a significant amount of time as well pinned under that old radiator as she was, but she was stalwart in her approach. Meantime, she continued to lose a significant amount of blood from her wounded leg, and that old rusty equipment mixed with a ninety-year-old leg was simply an infection looking for a place to happen. Eventually, Marion prevailed and the radiator was vanquished, but the radiator had won a significant battle in the war.
Marion’s leg was severely injured and required her to be hospitalized to repair the damage and allow her the space to heal. The healing process was no easy task, even for this stubborn North Yorkshire woman. Her leg became infected and required more aggressive treatment and more from her body to help it to heal. Unfortunately, some of this had the added side effect of nausea. Marion was still the self-sufficient woman and found a bucket just in the nick of time to prevent making a larger mess.
Hospital nursing staffs in England are nothing if not efficient. After Marion’s bought with nausea she rested quietly while the nurse took her partially filled bucket and emptied it quietly and efficiently. The nurse’s plan was to clean the bucket and bring it back just in case Marion had another round of nausea, all without disturbing Marion’s peaceful slumber.
The nurse emptied the bucket into what the British refer to as a sluice, or a garbage disposal. When the nurse engaged the motor for the sluice, the noise it made left a sick feeling in the pit of that nurse’s stomach. She quickly switched it off, but the damage was already done. She searched feverishly to determine the source of the horrible grinding noise, and pulled from the sluice what looked like little white bits of bone. Soon the nurse came to realize that she had just ground Marion’s teeth into oblivion. In a panic of not knowing what else to do, the nurse feverishly retrieved all of the broken bits of Marion’s dentures from the sluice, and placed them in a cup. She cleaned them, and then returned Marion’s teeth to her. The largest pieces in the cup were the individual porcelain teeth themselves.
Marion was just beginning to realize that she could not find her teeth when the nurse returned. Together they then realized that her teeth had been expelled from her mouth into the bucket during her latest round of nausea and that now her teeth were proudly sitting before her in a coffee cup. Marion didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so she just laughed and said, “Thank you dear.” Of course, how else would you respond if someone were to hand you a cup full of your own teeth.
Marion continued to chuckle about that for the balance of her days. The nurse’s kindness and tenderness were not lost on Marion. Actually, Marion felt sorry for the young lady, and knew how ashamed of what she had done she was. However, Marion never missed a beat and was able to forgive and love the young nurse beyond the simple mistake. Besides, it gave Marion and the rest of the family a great story that is worth much more than the price of a set of dentures.
Psalm 126:2
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| Rembrandt Harmensz. van Rijn - “Rembrandt Laughing” (ca. 1628) |
Marion was one of my wife’s aunts from North Yorkshire in England. The people of North Yorkshire, where my wife’s family comes from, and the people of Iredell County in North Carolina, where my family comes from, both supposedly speak English. The likelihood of either of these groups understanding each other would be quite slim, however. Both groups do speak English, but combining the dialect and the extremely strong accents of each would make the conversation between the two something that should be a spectator event; sell tickets. It would probably be the only event you would go to that would require translators with both people speaking the same language.
Marion was a frugal and self-sufficient woman that would rarely, if ever, ask another human being for assistance. Much of that attitude, as with many people of her generation, comes from her experiences during World War II.
WWII was devastating to the British people. The German blitzkriegs and the rationing of basic daily staples changed that generation in ways that still persist seventy years later. Only the lights that were absolutely imperative to be on were, and there was certainly talk about what absolutely imperative actually meant. Sugar, tea, coffee, etc. were all rationed, and families were only allotted a certain amount. Things they had once taken for granted were now at a premium to get. As a result, Marion and the rest of her generation began to learn to do without and tighten their belts a few notches in support of the war efforts.
The typical way of taking tea in England is with a little milk and a little sugar. As with coffee, some people want both, some want neither, and some want only one or the other; it is a personal taste. The prevailing presumption, however, is that everyone takes both milk and sugar. This is not much different from my own Iredell County where the assumption is that you drink your iced tea sweet, and unsweetened tea is almost seen as uncivilized.
On a trip to visit Marion, my wife was enjoying a pot of tea with her at a local garden. A number of people were there at the same time, and table space became a premium. My wife and Marion shared a larger table with some other ladies at the garden that afternoon, but had no real interaction with them. For more than half an hour Marion and my wife chatted and enjoyed the wonderfully crisp afternoon in refreshing North Yorkshire air.
After a while, my wife asked Marion if she would like some more tea. Marion did, and as typical English custom, my wife politely offered to add milk and sugar to her tea for Marion. Marion said, “Milk please dear, but no sugar.” My wife, Emma, complied with no questions.
The other ladies they were sharing the table with, however, were not about to be silent. For almost an hour now, Marion and the other ladies had barely acknowledged each other’s presence. Emma thought they were strangers who were cordially sharing their table, until one of them spoke up. “So, you don’t take sugar in your tea do ya, Marion?”
In an air that explained it all, Marion replied, “No, not since war.” At that point, the other ladies understood perfectly, and my wife was dumbfounded. She was dumbfounded over the fact that Marion and these ladies had known each other since they were children, but barely acknowledged each other. She was also dumbfounded over the fact that, “No, not since war,” seemed to explain everything.
Because of sugar rationing in WWII, many people began to learn to take their tea without sugar. The little sugar there was had been reserved for other more important things like supporting the British soldiers and sailors, or canning of fruit for later use. With those others being the primary use, tea began to take a back seat on the list of things that sugar went into. Once Marion adapted to that philosophy and learned to do without, continuing that way was no problem. Since the other lady was of the same generation, she of course needed no further explanation. She also need no explanation of which war, for to nearly all of North Yorkshire of a certain generation there really is only one war to which they may refer – World War II.
Marion’s sense of independence was just as staunch as her sense of frugality. Although her life may be in danger, Marion would insist on doing and helping no matter what. It is one of those qualities that would both endear you to Marion and frustrate you about her.
In Marion’s later years she often needed the assistance of a cane to keep herself steady. Even at that, she still enjoyed puttering around in her garden with various flowers and shrubs that would make most people in America green with envy. Her home was only about 100 years old, so it is relatively new by British standards. Her garage was the old coal shed, and on her property is what remains of an old Quaker church that hasn’t been in use for many years. Each of these aspects added a certain charm and character that is only present in these wonderful country homes in North Yorkshire. With the charm, however, come certain dangers of older equipment and the like being around.
Beside the old coal shed was an old radiator leaning up against the building. Marion’s insistence on doing things for herself, found her cleaning up around the old coal shed and trying to reposition this old radiator. In the process, the rusty piece of equipment lost balance and toppled onto Auntie Marion, pinning her to the ground. The falling radiator also caused significant damage to Marion’s leg, and her future on this earth was looking bleak.
The unshakeable Marion, however, being the stubborn Yorkshire lass that she was, was not about to let a little thing like a 200 pound radiator and a leg bleeding profusely slow her down. Using her cane, she resourcefully pried the radiator up and off her as she slid from beneath it. For a fifty-year-old person this would have been an impressive feat, but for a ninety-year-old woman this was beyond normal human belief. It did take her a significant amount of time as well pinned under that old radiator as she was, but she was stalwart in her approach. Meantime, she continued to lose a significant amount of blood from her wounded leg, and that old rusty equipment mixed with a ninety-year-old leg was simply an infection looking for a place to happen. Eventually, Marion prevailed and the radiator was vanquished, but the radiator had won a significant battle in the war.
Marion’s leg was severely injured and required her to be hospitalized to repair the damage and allow her the space to heal. The healing process was no easy task, even for this stubborn North Yorkshire woman. Her leg became infected and required more aggressive treatment and more from her body to help it to heal. Unfortunately, some of this had the added side effect of nausea. Marion was still the self-sufficient woman and found a bucket just in the nick of time to prevent making a larger mess.
Hospital nursing staffs in England are nothing if not efficient. After Marion’s bought with nausea she rested quietly while the nurse took her partially filled bucket and emptied it quietly and efficiently. The nurse’s plan was to clean the bucket and bring it back just in case Marion had another round of nausea, all without disturbing Marion’s peaceful slumber.
The nurse emptied the bucket into what the British refer to as a sluice, or a garbage disposal. When the nurse engaged the motor for the sluice, the noise it made left a sick feeling in the pit of that nurse’s stomach. She quickly switched it off, but the damage was already done. She searched feverishly to determine the source of the horrible grinding noise, and pulled from the sluice what looked like little white bits of bone. Soon the nurse came to realize that she had just ground Marion’s teeth into oblivion. In a panic of not knowing what else to do, the nurse feverishly retrieved all of the broken bits of Marion’s dentures from the sluice, and placed them in a cup. She cleaned them, and then returned Marion’s teeth to her. The largest pieces in the cup were the individual porcelain teeth themselves.
Marion was just beginning to realize that she could not find her teeth when the nurse returned. Together they then realized that her teeth had been expelled from her mouth into the bucket during her latest round of nausea and that now her teeth were proudly sitting before her in a coffee cup. Marion didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so she just laughed and said, “Thank you dear.” Of course, how else would you respond if someone were to hand you a cup full of your own teeth.
Marion continued to chuckle about that for the balance of her days. The nurse’s kindness and tenderness were not lost on Marion. Actually, Marion felt sorry for the young lady, and knew how ashamed of what she had done she was. However, Marion never missed a beat and was able to forgive and love the young nurse beyond the simple mistake. Besides, it gave Marion and the rest of the family a great story that is worth much more than the price of a set of dentures.
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