Susan Keezer: Sometimes the best people aren't literal family
Aunt Chloe was in the Women’s Army Corps during World War II. She was very short, in fact, shorter than regulations allowed. An early feminist, she demanded to be enlisted, pointing out that she could serve … and did. With blocks attached to the clutch, brakes and accelerators of Army Jeeps, because she couldn’t reach the pedals, she drove officers around bases in Michigan and Indiana as well as working in those post offices. After the war, she lived with her parents in their small house.
Aunt Chloe taught me which forks, spoons and knives to use at dinner. She took me to movies and bought 45 rpm records to play on her new record player after I nearly wore out the Chopin record that came with it.
She always wore dark red nail polish. On Saturday night, she would apply one coat then another every night until Friday night when she would take it all off.
Her oldest brother and family lived in Cleveland, Ohio. On rare occasions, he and his family would drive to Michigan for a visit or our families would drive to Cleveland.
One summer, Aunt Chloe asked me if I would like to visit Uncle Ted and Aunt Mary. I hardly knew them but any trip with Aunt Chloe would be quite wonderful.
Aunt Chloe picked me up and then told me we were not driving to Cleveland but flying. Flying? Me? On an airplane?
When we got to Willow Run Airport, we walked out to the airplane and up steps to board. We flew on Capitol Airlines. I remember looking out the window and watching the ground disappearing below us.
What I do not remember is anything of the visit. I just remember the magic of being in that noisy large metal tube with its small windows, sitting next to my wonderful Aunt Chloe … this fine aunt who opened so many doors and windows to the world for me. She gave me music and ideas.
How I loved her.
One year, just before my birthday, she packed me into her car and said we were going to Detroit. I was seven years old and only knew that Detroit was a lot bigger than Ypsilanti.
It took over an hour to drive there and when we finally parked her car, we were right in downtown Detroit with its tall buildings.
Where are we going?
“I am taking you shopping at J.L. Hudsons,” replied Aunt Chloe. Hudsons meant nothing to me, nor did shopping. My mother was an excellent seamstress and made all of my dresses.
“I want to buy you a new outfit.”
We walked into this huge store, and I am sure my mouth fell open at the sight of all the wonderful bright lights, shiny counters, lovely saleswomen and customers. Shoppers brushed past me and the sweetness of their cologne drifted behind them as they walked. I was entranced.
We walked down several aisles then Aunt Chloe told me we needed to take the elevator to the children’s department. Elevator? I didn't know a small room could move up and down in a building.
When we emerged from the elevator, I looked around and saw nothing but children’s clothing everywhere. Boys’ pants and coats, suits and pajamas. We kept walking until we came to the girls’ department. Aunt Chloe started pushing hangars back and forth until she found a suit. It had a pale blue skirt and a pink and blue plaid jacket.
“What do you think about this?”
It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. “I love it.”
“Good,” she said and took it to a counter and paid for it.
Then she bought me a blouse, black patent leather shoes, white stockings and underwear.
“Ah, you need a purse and hat.”
By then it was lunchtime. Having lunch in Hudsons was just as much fun as having all these new clothes.
Aunt Chloe never married. She had a male friend with whom she traveled frequently — to the consternation of her heavily starched stern mother.
How lucky I was to have her in my life. I had other aunts but she was special. When I had daughters, she loved them as well. They too were invited to spend the night with her on weekends.
I see surrogate aunts around town — hats off to you! I know you are treating some little girl to trips to movies or the circus. Perhaps you are buying them something special or taking them to art classes.
Bless you … you are needed.
— Susan Keezer lives in Adrian. Send your good news to her at lenaweesmiles@gmail.com.
This article originally appeared on The Holland Sentinel: Susan Keezer: Sometimes the best people aren't literal family
