Remembering Aunt Bea

Nothing is more hilarious than the sound of people laughing who are trying very hard not to laugh. That was the sound that came from the back corner of a Norristown cab in 1973. It hadn't been Aunt Bea's night. She had taken Mom and I to the movies with her and her two teenage girls. She found that she had a flat tire after we came out. We had to call a cab to get home and the cab took forever to get there. We waited in a lobby, where Aunt Bea sat in a chair that almost flipped over backwards. When the cab finally came, all five of us had to squeeze into the back seat because the front seat was already filled with passengers. Mom and Aunt Bea shared a keen sense of humor that was like a rolling snowball when they were together. Their muffled snickers were heard all the way home. Aunt Bea handled that night like she handled everything else in life - with good natured patience and grace.

Today I remember Aunt Bea - Beatrice Salmons Collarin Norris - my mother's sister, on the day of her birth. Aunt Bea was the third of five children born to Albert and Mary Salmons in the 1930's. She was only a year or two younger than Mom, so the two of them hung around together and became BFF's. While playing together, Mom was always the cautious one while Aunt Bea was a little dare-devil. They were both mischievous however, for when their parents thought that they were in bed asleep, they were actually climbing out their bedroom window onto the roof! The had their share of rivalry. I think Mom said that they once got into a fist fight. They must have resolved the issue, though, because they were always very close after they grew up. 

Aunt Bea became a beautiful and talented young woman, working as a model and a professional singer. She was also talented as a seamstress. Aunt Bea eventually married Don Collarin and was given the nickname "Candy" by his nurturing, Italian family. One of her female relatives would frequently say, "You done good, Candy." She must have liked hearing that because she named her first-born daughter Candle, who some people called Candy. She had a second daughter, Mary Jo, and at some point they all lived down in Florida. She talked about a time when she took the girls to the beach where she sat reading while they played. Looking up from her book, she suddenly noticed that they had visitors - a group of baby alligators who were crawling up the shore! 

Aunt Bea ended up being a heart-broken, single mom when Don left her. Her life was not easy after that happened. It was not long though, before other men began to notice her. For a while she dated a very rich man who I will call George. "George" took her out during a time when she was really struggling financially. She was shocked when she saw him put a ten dollar tip on their restaurant table, which was a huge amount of money at the time. She thought about how that ten dollar bill could feed her and the girls for a whole week. She may have been tempted to take it, but she didn't. When she got home, she found that George had rolled up a hundred dollar bill and stuffed it into the toe of her shoe! I'm not sure why she and George broke up. It may have been related to the fact that George was suspected of being a high-profile gangster. Yes, some true stories are more colorful than fiction! 

Aunt Bea's Norristown apartment was a gathering place for many. Candle and Mary Jo said that it was where the neighborhood kids loved to hang out. They enjoyed talking to Aunt Bea who was naturally understanding and compassionate. It's easy to understand why. I remember encouragement I got from her myself about not letting the negative things my peers said affect me. A champion of the underdog, Aunt Bea was the type of person who truly embraced all people. On the wall above her bed was a huge picture of Jesus kneeling in the garden of Gethsemane. For decades Aunt Bea hosted Thanksgiving at her house for my family, her family and Uncle John. Cooking was another of her many talents. Her turkeys were always the most tender and her home-made pies were out of this world. Her dining room was always filled with laughter, especially when Mom was in it. When not hosting, Aunt Bea was the one who was always running late, pulling curlers out of her hair while walking out the door. She also became known for parking her car outside the lines. "I did an 'Aunt Bea'" was what people said when they failed to park properly.  

The memory that most strongly demonstrated who she was as a person was a Thanksgiving when she was having some rough times at her job. She was upset by whatever was going on, and on top of that, she had to work on Black Friday. She told Mom, however, that instead of dwelling on her problems, she was going to spend the day thinking about all the things she was grateful for, and the things she was most grateful for were the people who were going to be sitting around the table with her. Aunt Bea looked especially tired that night as we sat having coffee after the meal. She could barely keep her eyes from closing, but she continued to smile and laugh, keeping her attention on what was most important.   

In her later years, Aunt Bea moved to a place on Mill Road. She became involved with the man who lived upstairs (Alan Norris) and eventually married him. In her photo album is an unforgettable picture of the two of them dressed in Halloween costumes. She never stopped being glamorous or demonstrating a flair for fashion, even when she was dying from cancer. When she passed from this world in 2007, she left behind a pair of shoes that were very difficult to fill.