The People in Your Life Are Better than Fiction

Aunt Lizzie and Uncle Sam

While looking for characters endowed with rich personalities, I suggest turning the lens on your families, both present and those long gone. I doubt it’s just me who is surrounded by colorful characters. I welcome my family and friends to adopt my brand of strange and wacky for any story they wish to tell.

I’d be honored to be your orange-haired old lady who carries a Bible like Aunt Esther from Sanford and Son. Or even the eccentric old lady who insists on wearing vintage hats with dangling flowers, proclaiming they never go out of style.

With that said, I introduce you to Aunt Lizzie and Uncle Sam.

Although visits were infrequent, and most likely totaled less than six, they are unforgettable characters. Having both passed away before my adult years, what I experienced firsthand was limited.

I was busy running through sprinklers and eating popsicles with my cousins. You see, we lived on the west side of Washington state, and they lived on the east side where sunshine chooses to dwell. I moved east the first chance I had and still reside there.

My memories take place in the 1950s; however, Aunt Lizzie and Uncle Sam’s attire remained in the 1930s. The flour sack dresses were her standard uniform, and I remember Uncle Sam in a 3-piece suit with Gary-Cooper-style wide ties and baggy trousers.

Years after they were gone, I visited the warm, inviting home they lived in, realizing it was a rundown shack. When I asked my parents what happened to it, they laughed, saying, “It’s always been a shack.”

Aunt Lizzie was the kind of woman destined to have children on her lap. She welcomed however many could fit, and that was quite a few. The shack smelled of biscuits and bacon morning and night, and we were welcome under her feet in the tiny kitchen as long as we were careful of the wood stove.

Beyond her legendary hugs, smiling eyes, and ability to let us know we were loved, I only have the historic family stories shared through generations.

Cherry-picked stories to share —

My favorite is the time Aunt Lizzie was pulling weeds in her flower garden when she felt sharp pangs on her hand and up her arm. Reeling in her hand revealed a nest of spiders. With her hand showing signs of swelling, she checked for the red hourglass-shaped mark on the spider’s abdomen, identifying them as female black widows.

As the story goes, she feared she’d die, and the children would be alone with no food. Uncle Sam was on a fishing trip, there was no phone or other means to chase down help. Whether Aunt Lizzie would have died or not, I don’t know. The point is, she believed she was in trouble.

In true pioneer woman fashion, she marched herself into the house, gathered all available flour, yeast, eggs, and butter, rolled up her sleeves and baked, and baked and baked. The story ends happily with Aunt Lizzie sweating buckets, after working so hard, voiding the venom and making a full recovery.

Another story involves both Aunt Lizzie and Uncle Sam along with more family members to complete the cast. My Na-na Elsie, my mom Dema, and Mom’s dad, Bruce.

While on a family camping trip, Elsie, known for her poor driving skills, backed her 1936 Chevy Coup, named Nellie, off a cliff. Mom, the storyteller, was ten years old at the time and a wide-eyed passenger in the backseat. Seat belts did not exist.

No worries —

While Uncle Sam stood outside the car giving Elsie directions on backing up to turn around, he witnessed the back wheels sliding partway down the cliff. It’s worth noting that Uncle Sam, the navigator, wore coke bottle glasses and was legally blind. According to little Mom, he grabbed a small rock placing it strategically behind the rear tire. Mom, who was staring out the back window frightened for her life, swears the rock was no bigger than a potato.

After securing the car in his mind, Uncle Sam tips his hat to Elsie and sets off to find Bruce, who is fishing downstream. On the way, he finds Aunt Lizzy, sharing a detailed version of the story.

Once at the creek, being affluent in proper fishing etiquette, he waits for Bruce to bait his hook and cast a line into the creek before speaking. In his token mid-western, extra slow drawl, Uncle Sam inquires, “Any luck there Bruce? Ya’ catch any yet?”

Once Bruce reveals his basket full of rainbow trout, Uncle Sam responds, “You betcha’, those are beauties!” Then, he casually adds, “Well, Elsie and Dema are back yonder hanging off a cliff — “

With that, Bruce tosses his pole in the air, racing up the hill where Uncle Sam was pointing. By the time he reached the top, Aunt Lizzie had secured the scene by positioning her large frame on the hood of the coupe, hoping to balance the weight, to stop it from rolling any further down the cliff.

Thank God, they lived to tell the story.

My memories of Uncle Sam, a quiet man, unless telling a long-winded yarn, are limited. The story I remember hearing the most is the time he stayed at a swanky hotel in Seattle. As told by Mom, the family witnessed him extend a handshake while tipping his fedora to a full-length mirror in the lobby, thinking it was the concierge. When the image did not reciprocate, Uncle Sam walked away muttering something under his breath about city folk.

Many of these stories were told around campfires during week-long family camping trips. I never tired of them. Even now, I not only remember the stories but also the adoring look in the eyes of the storyteller.

I don’t know about you, but I love the ingredients that make a person unique, and interesting to experience. Like salt on popcorn, it plays an important role. It seems people puffed up with air but without salt, are rather dry, and those with extra butter are worth savoring. They are the characters worthy of our stories.

I hope to leave a few colorful stories behind for the family to cherish. That’s why I continue telling a tale to my children and grands, even when they’re giving me that “I’ve heard this story a million times look.

What’s annoying today, may just well be a cherished memory tomorrow.

Check out our book about God’s love for two looney-tune drunks.