My aunt's idiosyncrasies

My aunt's idiosyncrasies

fiction
edward w pritchard

I am not sure if my aunt was eccentric because she was a cherokee Indian, an Indian or if that's how she was as an American, West Virginian, a woman or if that was herself. I did gain a lifelong sympathy, respect and admiration of American Indians because of her. We never talked about her being Indian even once and it was unusual for of all my relatives, everyone was different but the same in the normal way, except her who was a full blooded Cherokee Indian.

She used to get up at five AM and cook elaborate breakfasts, like a feast, that took all their money, for us kids when we went there, at their small house on the top of a small mountain, or hill really. Her husband was a coal miner but he was really a preacher, not ordained, working Sunday's at a Black church, then called negro where people spoke in tongues; and my father ahead of time squeezed my arm very hard and told me and my brother to keep quiet.

My Aunt Ruth somehow went out to eat with us once, for she hated restaurant food, which she complained about vocally. She sent back her food three times, really, before even her husband, who was saint like at times, had to put his foot down. While she ate it she told me specifically that restaurant food was never any good.

My Aunt Ruth died a long time ago and she used to think my Father's and her husband's, my Father's younger brother, parents, my grand parents and her in laws house was haunted. Not haunted in the Indian way by spirits but haunted because it was dark and slightly unwelcoming. At least that's how she had explained it to me when I was six. She kidded around a lot with me because she thought I was bright and we were both story tellers. She got me to liking Indians and later after I studied up on the matter, I agreed with my initial assessment from when I was six that Indians were more authentic than other normal Americans.