The lucky ones 9e.t ou-t aCker -rive
serne,s+ers. The. rest stay here
Editorial
Page
On Snow and Goldfish
I've always loved the first
snowfall of the season, it reminds me of
a fresh blanket thrown upon the earth,
covering the ugly, dirty, bare ground.
The snow is white, fresh and clean, and
best of all peaceful. I like to go
outside at night when the snow is
falling, to hear the soft wind blowing
through the trees, and,if I listen really
closely I can hear the snowflakes hitting
the ground.
For me that peace is so serene
and calming that if it weren't so cold I
could spend hours outside just walking
and thinking. It is almost a mission
that every year during the first snowfall I
go and try to find virgin snow to make
the first tracks in or build a snowman
with. I remember last year we went
down to the Susquehanna river at
Riverfront Park in the city and built a
snowman on the side of the road. Cars
went by full of passengers honking and
waving as we put the finishing touches
on our snow person ( it didn't really have
a definitive sex), and the next morning
when we went back to the river other
people had added their own touches to
our snow person, giving it a personality
and character.
Last week I went on my trek
again to find fresh snow, but this time I
didn't make any snow people. This time
I thought about my great aunt who died
before Halloween. I had been so busy
with school work and my job that I
really hadn't , until then, had the time
to think about her or even mourn her
death. When my mom told me that
Aunt Agnes had died I put it on a back
shelf in my brain to think about later. In
fact I had virtually forgotten about it
until someone asked me what my family
was like.
I don't know if my aunt had
ever seen snow. She might have as a
little girl when her parents first came to
this country and settled in Chicago, but
they moved from there to the Gulf Coast
area of Texas when she was still quite
young. Aunt Agnes was the third of a
family of eight children that had come to
the new world from Ireland to escape the
potato famine. When the family left the
coast because of flooding, and moved
inland to the San Antonio area, Aunt
Agnes worked on the family dairy farm
and helped to raise her younger siblings,
including my grandfather. She married a
man named Lawrence Packard whom
everyone called "Blink"(which is quite
ironic since Uncle Blink eventually went
blind), and moved to the city. She only
Capital Times Meeting!
Thursday, November 19
12:00
in W-129
Open to the Campus Community.
had one son, but she had a wealth of
grandchildren and great-grandchildren as
well as nieces, nephews, and great nieces
and nephews who loved her very much
Going to visit Aunt Agnes and
Uncle Blink was one of my favorite
things to do when we went home to
Texas each summer. Aunt Agnes would
always offer us a soda water (Coke), and
give each of us our own little bottle of
coke to drink; quite a thrill when you're
all of seven or eight years old. I don't
think I've ever seen those little bottles
anywhere else, but they've always stuck
in my mind. Aunt Agnes always had
magazines for us too. She was the type
of person who never threw magazines
away because there was always someone
who hadn't read them yet. I used to sit
on the couch in the living room of her
grand, old house and look at the pictures
of the glamorous ladies in Redbook and
imagine that someday I could be like
them. Aunt Agnes always told me that I
was prettier than those fancy ladies
because I looked like my mother, and
Uncle Blink always nodded in agreement
Uncle Blink was an avid
gardener. Even though he went blind he
kept up with his garden. He would walk
us out to the garden and point out his
prize vegetables and flowers. If he
couldn't recognize a plant with what
little sight he had, he would reach down
slowly and caress the petals and leaves
gently between his fingertips until he
knew just what the plant was. I learned
more about flowers from a blind uncle
than I ever have from a sighted person.
In their garden Agnes and Blink had a
huge goldfish pond, that in reality was
only a few feet across, but to me it was
a lake. We were always given
breadcrumbs or fish food to give to the
fish to get them to come to the top so
we could see them. I used to take a stick
and move the lilypads out of the way so
I could watch the fish swim back and
forth across the pond for hours.
I don't know if the pond is, still
at their house anymore. Uncle Blink
died years ago, and Aunt Agnes moved
to a nursing home soon after, but I will
always remember them as living in the
white frame house with green trim, a
front porch that squeeked, and a beautiful
garden with goldfish pond in the back
yard.
I'm glad it snowed last week, I
finally got the time to think about and
remember two people who meant a lot
to me. Aunt Agnes, I miss you.