Aunt Anna

So there’s this.

Don’t give me your condolences, I wouldn’t know what to do with them. Please keep them and use them for you and yours. They make me uncomfortable.

“All-You-Can-Eat”-Dim-Sum-Lunch-at-Silver-Waves-Restaurant-1-1024x681As I was saying, my Aunt Anna passed away a few days ago which is coincidental because I was just telling one of my favorite stories of her to the crew/cast of “Day Drinking.” This is not that story but a much better one.

My Uncle Ben (Anna’s husband and my father’s older brother) was, shall we say, a friend of ours. Nothing too extravagant but, you know.

Anyhow, in my young adulthood, I was deeply in love with a beautiful girl named Peggy; she of the golden curly tresses, big green eyes and be-freckled face. As young Queens-dwellers are wont to do, we decided to take the 7 train into Chinatown. As is often the case in the Big City, we were seated at a large round table where there were already customers (a big ten seat table.) The three elder Chinese ladies were not happy with my choice of luncheon companion and it was readily apparent to Peggy and me. Racism and snide comments breach any language barrier. It didn’t really bother us, we enjoyed a snide comment ourselves and it looked like they were wrapping things up anyway.

Suddenly, my Aunt Anna appeared from no where! She was a grand dame of Chinatown and preceded to say hello to just about everyone in the restaurant. When she finally made it to our table she chatted (in Chinese) to our three table friends and then she eventually noticed me and a louder greeting there never was (I don’t see my family often). “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” I introduced her to Peggy and she was so nice and so welcoming to her. Aunt Anna introduced me and Peggy to her friends, our table companions and they (in Chinese) told her how they were talking about how handsome a couple we were (Anna later told me.) After much table side chatter Aunt Anna left and so did our table companions. Maybe 20 minutes later, Peggy and I asked for the bill and our three table companions had already paid it. And that’s the power of my Aunt Anna. It’s one of a few stories I have of her, but I love it.

Thanks Aunt Anna. Rest in Peace.

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