In the Dodge Raider with Aunt Nono

By Nellie Curtiss ….

When I was five, I couldn’t pronounce Aunt Leona’s name; so, I called her Aunt Nono. At the age of 80, my aunt developed Alzheimer’s which had become evident by memory loss. She couldn’t follow simple directions either and would spend twenty to thirty minutes rummaging through her purse for some unnamed thing. Still, her smile lit up her face and her eyes. One spring afternoon, I buckled her into the passenger seat and took her for a ride.

Just outside of Manassa, beyond the waterless bridges of steel, Aunt Leona measured the hill and plateau she saw. The following is a conversation I had with Aunt Nono riding in my red Dodge Raider.

Aunt Nono (AN): I wish that God would come down, sit here beside me, and talk to me.

Me: And what would you talk to Him about?

AN: Oh, I don’t know. I just had it on my mind but now I just don’t know. Oh, Nellie, my mind isn’t what it used to be, you know.

About then we were driving just outside of San Acacia when we passed the crumpled café and homeless bed & breakfast. Then Aunt Leona gasped.

AN: I just thought that I haven’t told Mama where I was going. Do you think she knows?

Me: Oh, yes, I told Edna (Edna is her daughter) before we left that we were going for a drive.

AN: Do you ever wish you were dead, Nellie? Sometimes I just wish that I could lay down and go to sleep.

Just as we are outside of San Luis, near the Stations of the Cross, Aunt Leona whispered about walks to the mailbox, and abductions.

AN: Some days I just want to cry. I go into my room by myself and just cry. I don’t want Edna to know though; I don’t want her to be hurt.  What’s wrong? Do you see that car behind us?

Me: How do you know there’s a car; I don’t see one (I say as I look in my rear-view mirror.) Look back and describe it to me.

AN: It’s back there somewhere. I can FEEL it.

Me: What color is the car, Aunt Nono?

AN: Oh, I don’t know what color it is, but it’s dark.

Me: What make is it, Aunt Nono?

AN: Oh, I don’t know, I’ve forgotten.

Me: There’s no car behind us, Aunt Nono.

AN: Oh, there most certainly is. I can feel it.

AN: (As we round away from the levee, she looks this way, that way, behind her, in front of her.) I don’t want to be abducted–I want to stay away from the men who abduct. I heard there’re some men who abduct. I just don’t want to be one of them. (Tears set off her pearl-like hair drawn back from her face with silver hair clips.)

AN: I think so much about you. I think about my mama, Daddy, my husband, and Jerry. You know, my son is an alcoholic. Things haven’t been going so well for Edna, either; she always has something to worry about. I want to see her sheep, but I don’t want her to worry. Things haven’t gone so well for Jerry. Do you have enough gas? (She rummages through her cream patched leather handbag).  I don’t have any money for gas. I haven’t seen my mother in so long. She was so sick. (Grandma, Aunt Nono’s mother had died when Aunt Nono was about 17 years old. She was now 80.) I don’t know if she is all right or not. I don’t know if my Daddy is alive or dead. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Arnold (her brother). I wonder where he is?

Then Aunt Nono asked: How are your two boys? How is your mother, Nellie? I Think about you so much. Your people are good people.

Just pass the bridge on our way back through Manassa, Aunt Leona squints to see the perched bald eagle half hidden in the bare cottonwoods along the banks.

AN: I’ve been here before in Mercedes, Texas. I never realized how big everything was here. All the Mexicans loved my daddy because he gave them water. He made sure everyone got water whether they were rich or not. (Her father worked irrigating and was responsible for channeling water to area farms in the lower Rio Grande Valley of Texas.)

Between Manassa and Romeo, we see over-grazed pastures, calving heifers, Sunday chores, and flattened barbed-wire fences.

AN: We better turn around if we don’t have much gas.

Me: We are; we’re on our way back to Edna’s, I say.

(Clapping her hands and giggling), Aunt Nono raves: Oh, I’m so glad. Won’t she be surprised!

. . . .

We both catch our breath as the 4-wheel drive creeps over the drying but still muddy driveway; lifting in front of the passenger wheel, a sea gull snares a scavenged treasure and caries it off into the southern sky and then eastward ho towards Dallas, Houston, and Galveston.

— Nellie Curtiss is a retired college educator and long-time local columnist. Reach her at columnsbynellie.com or email her at columnsbynellie@gmail.com