It’s Thanksgiving Day and I
can’t help but think back to those family holiday dinners of the past. It isn’t
the preparations, the decorations or even the turkey that I remember the most.
I'm thinking about my Aunt Edna.
I can hear
her cheerful greeting, her laughter, and her asking me to get her a cup of tea; I remember the walks
into town and feel her arms giving me a hug. She was ever-present in my
childhood. When I was a baby, she lived upstairs; then later, she lived with
our family for a few years until I was a young teen; then she got an apartment
nearby. She was always there.
Holidays were special because of
all the preparations for visiting relatives and the big dinners. Aunt Edna made
the best coleslaw I’ve ever tasted. I would stand on a chair next to her at the
kitchen sink and watch
Thanksgiving c. 1977 Edna (front far right) at kid's table |
Aunt Edna always had gray hair
for as long as I’ve known her. She was more like a grandma than an aunt—she had
hard candies in her pockets, Melba toast in her cupboard, and talcum powder in
her bathroom. She had a caregiver’s heart, and an infectious laugh. She rarely
got angry, and when she did, it wasn’t for long. One time, my brother and I
crawled up beside her in bed when she was sleeping. Aunt Edna snored very
loudly. We found a downy feather from the pillow and tried to float it over her
mouth, just like in the cartoons. When she inhaled it, we laughed hysterically,
waking her up. She didn’t even get mad; she saw the humor in it and laughed
right along with us.
Another time, we were getting
ready to go somewhere, and I remember her franticly looking all over for her
glasses only to discover they were on her head. We laughed about that for a
long time. When my brother and I asked her to take our shortcut “over the river
and through the woods” to her apartment complex, she hesitated, but only a
little. She followed us on that crazy shortcut, brushing brambles aside,
crossing over a log, and laughing all the way. We spent many hours going for
walks to the store, to the library and around the neighborhood. Aunt Edna had never
learned to drive; she never learned to ride a bicycle; and she never learned to
swim. But she had a big heart and a great capacity for love.
My memories of her are mostly the
memories of a child. Having moved away as a teen, I never really got to know
her as an adult. It’s only when I look back, seeing her life through a
genealogist’s eyes that I can appreciate what she’s been through. It’s then
that I realize just what a remarkable person she was.
Edna Marie Outhouse was born in
Peekskill, New York, on 27 January 1915, the only child of Lester [i]
Edna (Baisley) Outhouse with daughter, Edna Marie c. 1918 |
In September 1918, when she was
almost 4 years old, the Spanish Influenza hit Peekskill. Between the months of
September and November, there were over 3000 cases. The local newspapers reported
over 30 deaths each week. [ii] My Aunt Edna lost both her father and her
uncle, Franklin Baisley, in the same week—both just young men in their early
twenties.
A widow with a young daughter,
Edna’s mother moved in with her in-laws, Ralph and Annie Outhouse.[iii]
She lived with them until the early 1920s, when she met and married a young
sailor, Albert Pastoor, with whom she made a home in Peekskill.[iv]
In the years that followed, three more children, all sons, were born. The
family managed to make a living during the depression. Edna, being the oldest and
the only daughter, had many household chores and helped raise her young
brothers. She told me of a time she killed a neighbor’s rooster because it
attacked her every day as she walked to school. One day she got tired of being
harassed by it and killed it with an ax. She got in trouble for killing the
neighbor’s prize rooster and had to work to pay off its cost.
In 1949, Edna again lost a
father, and in another six years, her mother was gone as well. By that time, Edna
was married and pregnant with her only child. Five years later, she was a
single mother trying to raise a daughter in Jersey City, New Jersey, the handsome
US Marine she married having deserted them. She never remarried.
I never once thought about the
hardships she had faced in her life. Maybe it was just because we never saw
Aunt Edna c. 1978 |
She’s
been gone 21 years now, and I miss her dearly. I think about her often and wish
she could see her family now. She would love watching her grown grandchildren,
nieces and nephews with their own children. I know if she were here this
Thanksgiving, she’d be sitting with the kids, playing games, teaching them how
to play cards, handing out hard candies from her pockets, and asking me to get
her a cup of tea.
[i] The New York Times, "Jan. 12, 1915 - Congress
Votes Against Women's Suffrage Amendment," The Learning Network, 12
Jan 2012
(http://learning.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/01/12/jan-12-1915-congress-votes-against-womens-suffrage-amendment/?_r=0
: accessed 23 Nov 2013).
[ii] "Influenza on the Wane," The Highland
Democrat, 2 Nov 1918, p. 2, col. 4; digital images, Old Fulton NY Post
Cards (http://www.fultonhistory.com : accessed 22 Nov 2013).
[iii] 1920 U.S. census, Westchester, New York, population
schedule, Peekskill, enumeration district (ED) 18, sheet 6-B (penned), p. 220-B
(stamped), dwelling 106, family 151, Edna Outhouse in Ralph Outhouse household; digital
images, Ancestry.com (http://www.ancestry.com : accessed 5 Jan
2010); citing National Archives and Records Administration microfilm T625, roll
1,275.
[iv] "U.S. City Directories, 1821-1989," database
and images, Ancestry.com (http://www.ancestry.com : accessed 14 Apr
2013), entry for "Pasteur, Albert (Edna)"; citing Richmond's
Peekskill New York Directory, 1927, p. 160; Ancestry.com image 86.