St. Patricks Day Reflection

March 17th, 2008 by Karen

Thirty one years ago today, I was baptized. I was all of 14 days old, so I don’t remember it, but I know it was March 17th because of my Aunt Marge.

Aunt Marge was perpetually old…she seemed ancient to my girlish eyes when I was little and was always a constant in my life. Every year, without exception, she sent me a card on my baptismal birthday. It was every bit as important as my regular birthday to her and I came to find its importance as well as comfort and wisdom in her brusque manners. As the world spun faster and faster, she shared small bits of advice in her slow manner with me while I was growing up. I distinctly remember sitting at my parent’s dining room table with a tiny notebook she always carried while she taught me how to spell so many of the words my dyslexia caused me to stumble over. We sat there for hours as she dictated words to me and I must have wrote the word “cinnamon” fifty times, but I did it. She was extremely proper, and I don’t know how many thousands of times she told me not to slouch and how to do things ‘just so’, but despite her demeanor she meant well and did it with love.

I never really knew too much about the person that was Margaret Plancich and this I will forever regret. I do know that she worked for many, many years for Kelly-Clarke and she had many important business people as friends, although she never mentioned them. She never married although a cousin told me she once had a sweetheart who was killed and so she never married. Romantic…yes. Truthful? I have no idea. Regardless, it simply added to her mystique.

Three years ago, my baptismal birthday cards stopped. My Aunt Marge had passed away the previous Decemember at 96. As the day got closer, I grew sad knowing that nothing important would be in the mail. When St. Patrick’s Day finally arrived, I was surprised by a card from my parents…and I sat on the front steps of our house and cried.

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