Groundhog Day

Groundhog Day's a special day, but not because I sit around waiting for some rodent to stick his head out of a hole. On February 2, 1924, my Aunt Betty was born in Wichita, Kansas. A Groundhog Day baby! She died this last Memorial Day.

She was the last Bowman in that generation and had the answers -- not only to genealogy questions and the stories of growing up with my dad, but also just life in general. It seems like only yesterday when we were beachcombing South Padre Island at dawn waiting for the new shells to roll in. Or dashing around to antique shops in the Midwest or New England, laughing all the way. We'd drop off my child or her dog and be off on the open road.

One early February morning, we were near the Kansas/Oklahoma border headed to South Padre in her car. It was frigid cold and spitting snow. A radio announcer issued a blizzard/frigid cold weather alert warning people to stay in their homes and off the roads. We thought about that for two seconds and both agreed there was no way we were turning back. We were going! She was fairly fearless in life, and hopefully I absorbed a little of that. The punchline to the story is that ten minutes later, we realized it was a Chicago radio station and weather forecast. And we had a good laugh!

Our debacles were always fodder for future anecdotes, like the fly in the shrimp salad episode where we decided I should just shut up, play like it was moving parsley, and eat it. And my hotel bed with the hunting dog hair in Dallas where she told me to just forget it and get some sleep. Then there was the carburetor incident where she drove her low slung Oldsmobile up the beach, sucked in way too much sand, and killed the car. Fortunately, that delayed our departure for home and we spent a few more days on the beach. I'll never forget our planned trip to Nantucket where we turned around in Mystic to avoid a tropical storm. We ran inland to Stockbridge, Massachusetts and managed to snag a cancelled hotel room. The hotel parking lot flooded with her car parked in it, the muffler fell off, she came down with the flu, the hotel had two fire alarms during the night -- the trip from hell! But we still managed to laugh about it for years! She taught me to weather the storm of life.

On Isla during Ida when I was at the Rocamar by myself with the wind howling and waves crashing off the seawall and splattering up onto the balcony, I could actually hear her saying -- Beck, what the heck have you gotten yourself into now?!!! And then she'd laugh. That gave me a momentary laugh and I thought -- what the hell! Just one more adventure in life that will make a great story!

Happy Birthday Aunt Betty! Sorry I can't be there to leave some seaglass and shells on your grave. Hope you're enjoying your birthday up there! Miss ya! : )