Remember It is the Thought that Counts

        Remember it is the Thought That Counts

Suzanne Marsh

“Remember darling, it is the thought that counts.” Every time I hear those words, I conjure up a memory of my Aunt Minerva. She was a sweet little old white haired maiden lady, my mother’s aunt. Aunt Minerva came to live with us when I was ten years of age. I was old enough to learn to respect my elders and young enough to have some wild adventures with Aunt Minerva. Aunt Minerva was also a bumbler in the true sense of the word.

My eleventh birthday was in October, just after Minerva arrived. She knew it was my birthday, she gave me a black umbrella that was well used. I sort of smiled and said thank you, under duress:

“You take whatever she gives you and be happy with it.” My mom’s words of wisdom.

I stared at the umbrella as Aunt Minerva began:

“That is a very special umbrella, it was used by Mary Poppins.” I had no idea who Mary Poppins was, nor did I really care. It looked like Aunt Minerva had fished the umbrella out of the trans bin. I just said: “thank you” then turned to open my other gifts. Aunt Minerva’s blue eyes smiled at me; I couldn’t give the umbrella back so I hid it in my bedroom.

One morning our entire household woke up late, Aunt Minerva decided to change the clocks so we would have a good rest. When I realized what time my watch said, I sprang out of bed, yelling at the top of my lungs:

“We overslept, everyone, we have to get moving. I am going to be late for school.” That last sentence was almost my undoing. Aunt Minerva casually took the keys to my mom’s vehicle and motioned me to come with her. Driving simply was not Aunt Minerva’s forte. She backed out of the garage, hit a garbage can, spun the tires. We were off, she ran a red light. The police car sitting next to her must have had a coronary as she went through two more red lights before he finally pulled her over. This was a great adventure for an eleven-year-old, I told all my friends at school. I did wonder how my mom was faring with Auntie. I did not have to wait long; mom met me at the front door, with the wild eyed looked she always had when something went wrong during day. Mom, was not the type to become frazzled, but Aunt Minerva had a way of driving mom crazy. Mom just prayed that dad would find some of these events laughable. Although, looking back I don’t dad was amused when he put his car in the garage and saw skids marks under mom’s tires. I do think that had something to do with the wild ride I had that morning going to school.

Aunt Minerva had been waiting for dad to come, she had a gift for him. The gift, as it turned out was an old oar from a row boat. Dad, was used to Aunt Minerva’s quirks but even he was puzzled by the oar. He began to speak, only to see mom shaking her head no. He sputtered a few times and thanked her for the gift. I remember thinking; ‘what sort of gift is an oar by itself.’ We did not have long to wait there in the driveway was an old blue chipped rowboat. Dad was flabbergasted, what had she been thinking of? Aunt Minerva, watched dad’s face then she looked him square in the eye:

“Donald, that rowboat was used at Dunkirk during World War Two. I thought you might enjoy

the history of it.”

“Ah, thank you Aunt Minerva.”

“That’s better Donald, you are welcome.”

The rest of the day, dad was outside walking around that old rowboat, there was a small hole in the bottom, he plugged that. I don’t think he ever believed it had been at Dunkirk, but with Aunt Minerva anything was possible.

That was the first day she came to live with us. The second day was more tribulation. The morning began with Aunt Minerva cooking breakfast. She had gotten up early to cook, that would have been fine if...she had understood how to use a microwave properly. We heard pans dropping, Mom was first to come on the scene. There was Aunt Minerva, her white hair flying in all directions as she attempted to put out the fire on the stove. The microwave began to make a groaning sound. Dad was hot on mom’s heals as he saw the damage to the stove. He began to say something but once again, mom simply shook her head no.

Dinner, that night was catch as catch can. Aunt Minerva decided that we would have a shepherd’s pie. She managed to go to a farm and purchase a lamb. We live in the city so why there was a lamb in the back yard caused our neighbors to question what was happening in our household; two words Aunt Minerva. I noticed the lamb when I came home from school, I quickly went to find mom:

“Mom, there is a lamb in the backyard. A real live woolly lamb! What is it doing there?”

Mom, never one to panic, ran to the upstairs window and peered out into the backyard, sure enough:

“Oh no, oh hell no, where is your Aunt Minerva?”

“Mom, she is in the kitchen, she said some about a shepherd’s pie.”

That was all mom needed to hear. She took the stairs two at a time. She ran into the kitchen and there stood Aunt Minerva. She had a meat cleaver and was about to exit the back door. Mom dashed after her:

“Aunt Minerva, you can’t butcher a lamb here in the backyard. The ASPCA and the police

will be here. That lamb needs to be returned to the farm it came from.”

Aunt Minerva was not going to be deterred:

“Maddie, the only way to make a true shepherd pie is to use fresh lamb. I had quite a time

finding a lamb in this area. The potatoes are from the same far as are the carrots. We are

going to have fresh lamb for our shepherd’s pie besides it is for Donald’s birthday dinner.”

Mom, was beside herself, if one of the neighbors called dad, heaven only knew what he would say. One of our busybody neighbors, noted the lamb and promptly called the police. The officer that arrived, noted the meat cleaver in Aunt Minerva’s hand:

“Hey, lady, put the meat cleaver down now!”

Aunt Minerva, her mischievous blue eyes dancing:

“Why officer, I am not doing anything illegal am I? I want to butcher that lamb for fresh

shepherd’s pie.”

“Lady, you cannot butcher anything within the city limits.”

“Oh, yes I can young man and the is precisely what I am going to do.”

Mom was mortified, the police officer called for backup. He wasn’t sure what to charge Aunt Minerva with but certainly a meat cleaver and a lamb must have made for an interesting story.

Aunt Minerva never did get to butcher the lamb, the police officer had the ASPCA come and get it. Mom, had a nervous breakdown and dad just shook his head. It certainly was the thought that counted.