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Grace Dillon Collins, 1919-2011 Mary Lee Campbell's eulogy for Grace. |
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Hi, I'm one of those many nephews and nieces. We all loved to stay with Aunt Grace. Always a lady, she could correct with the lift of an eyebrow. 90% of the thin veneer of civility that some of us have is due to her influence. She knew what was going on in the world around her, and still clung resolutely to her mental rose-colored glasses. But she had a great sense of humor. Her full-out laugh was a joy to hear and to evoke. One time we all met at my place to go out for lunch. I was running late, and had left a pile of clean socks on the coffee table. I popped out, finally ready to go with everybody waiting in the living room. She'd matched and folded and said "Wait. There's something wrong here." We collectively held our breath and she pronounced "There aren't any left over!" Bet the neighbors across the street heard our laughter. Sometimes when she got home from work at the Birmingham School District, she'd pull a bottle of beer out of the fridge and pour some into a glass, preferably Waterford. Then into the den, easing off her shoes, unhooking the nylons. She'd then lean back on the couch, take a dainty sip and say "Aaaah" while wiggling her toes. She still managed to be dignified while relaxing for a bit after a long day of dealing with bureaucracy. She was always ready to borrow a kid or so from her sister, and we all felt it was an honor to get to stay there. We all loved raiding her bookshelves when we were there, and the books always came back if we didn't finish 'em before we left. Aunt Grace professed to be embarrassed that she didn't have tinker toys, lincoln logs or such in her house. Maybe she was secretly delighted; a deck of cards takes up very little space. She'd hand a deck of cards to whichever kid was there, and kid would spend hours sitting cross-legged in the den, constructing houses. We learned patience from that exercise. Bet she knew that Fisher-Price didn't have a patch on a deck of cards for teaching hand-eye coordination and concentration. She taught us to play solitaire and many types of poker. In later years, we'd all dump out a big can of pennies for ante, play poker, then put all the pennies back when we were done. And she could beat the socks off of any of us. She was a whiz at bridge and pinochle too. Ah, sports. Yeah, she was a pretty good golfer, and followed the Tigers, Wings, Lions and Pistons avidly when the games were on TV. She went to Tiger Stadium many times. When seeing a botched play or call she'd grouse "Oh, you bums!" Whether it was poker, bridge, scrabble or sports, she'd have a relish tray, chips, crackers, snacks, beverages, you name it for her guests. Made sure everybody had something, even while she was playing 4 separate tables of bridge, or spurring on the team of the moment. She'd make holiday dinners for 20 people or more in her tiny kitchen. Ham, turkey or beef. For an Easter brunch, that wonderful ham, egg & bread casserole that I later found was an overnight project. A relish tray always had ripe olives, radishes, green onions, (we called 'em breath mints) sweet gherkins, and more. Scalloped potatos. That big square electric frying pan in which much food was made then devoured. She taught us about the wonders of orange marmalade, raspberry preserves, english muffins or toast, and soft-boiled eggs with a pat of butter and a wee dash of salt. How to crack the shell and remove the contents correctly. Determination, backbone of steel especially when she was making liver and onions for Uncle Bill. She hated liver and the smell of it cooking but made it anyway, 'cause he liked it. She worked crossword puzzles, read a lot, did some very respectable embroidery, dabbled at painting, wrote some poetry and was a dang good interior decorator. She even managed to make kitschy gifts from relatives work in the décor. Aunt Grace never swore, 'cept when she talked about playing golf with Uncle Bill. "Dammit, Grace, keep your head down!" Returning from a visit to a doctor some years ago she'd been told that a med couldn't be decreased at that time. I said "On the count of three, we're both going to say "Well, shit." She said "OK." Counting to three after the light changed, we both said loudly "Well, shit!" She giggled like a kid who hadn't gotten caught after raiding the cookie jar before dinner. After she lost her sight in one eye, she said she needed a new shade for a lamp in the den. We went to What-Mart, looking for lampshades. She spotted the aisle first, said "There it is." I said "Oh, good eye!" We looked at each other, me stricken by my gaffe. My hand went up to my mouth, "Oh, jeez." then we both cracked up and proceeded to pick out the new lampshade. She was and is a pip, and we all miss her. |