March 03, 2008 08:45 pm
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My sister and I were fortunate to have a childhood blessed with aunts and uncles who loved us, and who we got to spend hours of quality time with because we lived next door to our grandparents in Lenox Township.
Nearly every weekend, we saw these wonderful grown-ups, and amazingly, each one took time to make a difference in our lives.
Sometimes, someone makes a big difference in small ways. Such was the case with my Aunt Esther (Sullivan) Hawkins, who died Feb. 20. She was 85.
I’m told that as a little girl Aunt Esther played nurse with her dolls while being hassled and teased by three, younger, rambunctious brothers — and much later, a baby sister (our mother).
Throughout her entire life, Aunt Esther frequently talked about those spirited brothers and their childhood antics.
“Windsor wasn’t so bad, she would say, but of course, he was younger. But Harold and Rollin” — and she would shake her head. Rollin kicked a bucket out from under her and Harold teased her... the stories went on and on. I had to laugh, because I so enjoyed these stories about my dear uncles.
Just a day or two before she died, she was telling me another humorous anecdote, when I asked her, “Well, Aunt Esther which one was worse?”
She stopped, looked thoughtful for a moment and said, “Rollin. I’d have to say Rollin.”
Then I remembered a story Uncle Rollin LOVED to tell about Aunt Esther, and now I know why! Seems Rollin and Harold just couldn’t resist going into Aunt Esther’s bedroom just to hear her holler.
She would yell, “MA! The boys are bothering me!”
One day, she made a sign for her bedroom door that read, “Quarantine. Stay Out! My Dolls Have the Measles.”
Oh, how my Uncle Rollin would laugh when he told that story over and over again, adding that he and my Uncle Harold only teased Esther MORE because of that sign.
“Measles!” Uncle Rollin would say and laugh. “She said her dolls had MEASLES!”
Funny thing was that later in life, other than her children or grandchildren, she would rather receive a visit from her siblings than anyone else.
Aunt Esther and I also talked about the one thing we had in common despite our 35-year age difference — we both were very close to our grandmothers. She loved her Grandma Somers. She would say she liked nothing more than going to stay with Grandma. It was quiet at her grandma’s house and, of course, Grandma would spoil her. (Not to say my Grandma Sullivan spoiled me, of course!)
My most persistent memory of Aunt Esther is of a woman in motion. In her glory years, she rose early in the morning to get her son up for school, her husband to work and herself ready to go to the hospital, where she performed her life’s work, the job God made her to do — nursing.
But becoming a nurse wasn’t easy for Aunt Esther. First, she had to come up with the $200 tuition for Huron Road Hospital’s School of Nursing. Her Grandma Somers (my great-grandmother) told her if she came up with $100, she would pay the rest. Aunt Esther worked for $3 a day until she had $100.
Nursing school also meant she had to move away from home and stay in Cleveland — a full day’s travel in 1940, and Aunt Esther didn’t make new friends easily. It also meant rigorous course work. She told me that after the first week, she cried to Grandma Somers. She wanted to quit.
But Grandma Somers wouldn’t hear of it. She said, “’All I’ve heard for years and years is ‘I want to be a nurse, I want to be a nurse.’ You are going back.”
And, so she did, becoming a pioneer in our family — the first woman to achieve higher education.
She never regretted it for one minute.
Aunt Esther not only became a top-notch nurse, but she made friends, lifelong friends at that!
Aunt Esther’s essence, I believe, was to be a doer. She was happy as long as she was doing something or going somewhere. Otherwise, she was miserable. For example, she did not have to go to the hospital — day or night — for every baby born to every family member or friend, but she WANTED to.
She and Dr. Harold Franley of Jefferson delivered my baby sister, Ellen, on July 15, 1961, and she came in on her day off to help me deliver my baby boy, David, Aug. 22, 1979.
My sister’s eldest son, Brett, was her last second-generation delivery before she retired in 1986.
Aunt Esther was WONDERFUL in labor and delivery. Confident, competent, caring, considerate. I could go on and on and on. Unless you had Esther Hawkins as your nurse, there are not enough words to describe her, except it’s what God created her to do.
In addition, she kept her house immaculate, she baked a cake every week and was an active member of the Jefferson Church of the Nazarene. She didn’t have to do all this, but she wanted to.
She also loved her husband, my Uncle Herb. Their courtship, engagement and wedding were always hot topics of conversation when I felt like hearing about good, old-fashioned love and romance.
Oh, what an exciting day it was when Uncle Herb took her to the jewelry store in Jefferson to pick out her wedding and engagement rings.
According to Aunt Esther, they walked up to the ring counter and he said, “Get whatever you like.”
“I thought that was pretty good,” she said.
Planning their wedding and their wedding day was a dream come true, she said.
“Herb was a pretty good husband,” she would often say.
He rarely got angry and was a great help mate. With Herb, she also got a family, whom she loved very much.
Those who visited Aunt Esther at home knew always had a cat. I always got a chuckle out of how she treated her cats as if they were babies. I can’t remember them all, but I know there was Puff Ball, Socks, Buffy, Muffy, and last but not least — Chloe, the 17 1⁄2 pound calico I inherited from her. If every cat was loved as much as Aunt Esther loved her cats, the world would be a happier place.
I always had a deep respect for Aunt Esther’s profound faith. She was a believer in Jesus Christ and faithful in serving Him. She served as chaplain for the Grange for years, and after her retirement, she taught a regular Sunday School class at the Jefferson Geriatric Center. Also, during these last months, she truly appreciated the visits from Pastor Shirley Deemer, they were a great comfort to her.
If I had to describe Aunt Esther’s character in only a few words, I would choose honest and dependable. She was perhaps the most honest and trustworthy person I’ve ever known. She would never tell a lie. Never ever. Not even a white lie.
This, at times, caused a few raised eyebrows in the family. If she didn’t like something, she would tell you.
For example, I have naturally curly hair. When I asked her how she liked my new, straight hairdo, she said, “I don’t really care for it. You don’t look like yourself.”
You could also count on Aunt Esther for birthdays, graduation open houses, reunions, weddings and showers. She was there and she was there early.
Family, extended family, classmates, co-workers and friends were very important to her. She would take day trips to Geauga County and overnight trips to Pennsylvania to keep up these relationships. She was caring and kind. She made a difference at home, at work and in her community.
I will miss my Aunt Esther.
Staff writer Shelley Terry is in training to be the next Aunt Esther.
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A SHELLEY TERRY column