A Woman Who Rocked

I've been thinking this week about my favorite aunt, Nadine. Not Nuh-Deen, but Nay-Deen. She was my cousin Jacob's mother, my dad's sister. I've said this before, both here in the blog and out in the real world, when I became an aunt some 18 years ago, I set my sights on modeling myself after Nadine, for she was the ne plus ultra in auntly behavior. She was a tiny, short little woman with big hair, and she packed a lot of personality into that little frame.

Now, I have one sister, but when I was growing up it was a trio, my sister, Jacob, and I. We were inseparable, we three granddaughters of Mamaw Bowles. My sister and I of course lived with our mom and dad, and Jacob with Mamaw and Papaw Bowles (at least till Papaw passed on), and Nadine. Nadine was a divorcee, was left by her husband before Jacob was even born, and that just proves how stupid the man was, because really - who would leave Nadine?

So anyway, as I've said many, many times, Nadine was the "cool aunt." She liked the same kind of music we did, and knew rock and roll, and bands, and movie stars, and the lyrics to all of our favorite songs. She'd play games with us, and take us out driving around town to get ice cream and look at cute high school boys. She didn't dress like an old person ("old" being, to us kids, of course, anyone over 30).

She had a dark blue 1965 Ford Mustang, and it rocked. She always had the radio station tuned in for good music, and she also always had adornments for the ledge above the back seat of her car. It was usually a matching pair of pillows, but I can remember she once actually had a dog with a bobbing head! I remember this because I used to love the feel of it. It was at once both incredibly soft and kind of stubbly, made of fake suede. She worked from time to time at the local Celanese factory, and they made cigarette tow, and sometimes the car decorations would be little snowmen or people or animals made from the tow. Oh, the driving around we did in that car. We also sometimes went out in Papaw's car, an old boxy Nash of some sort. It was industrial blue-green. And it was ugly for a while.

Although to me, Nadine did most things well, there was one thing she was not so good at. Driving. We used to joke with her about it, but I remember vividly an experience we had in the big boxy Nash.

She had just taken us, my sister, Jacob, and I, out to eat, and we were in the parking lot preparing to turn out onto the highway. She pulled out right in front of a tractor trailer who was barreling down the incline that ended right at the restaurant's lot. To this day I don't know how in the hell she and the truck driver missed each other, but they did, and for about the next 10 minutes she was driving along, with the three of us now in the floor of the Nash screaming our lungs out, honestly wondering why we were so upset.

If Nadine was expected home at any time and was more than about 15 minutes late, Mamaw would start wringing her hands, and the three of us girls would sit looking out the picture window, waiting, just knowing this would be the time she'd been in an accident. And you know, I don't think she ever was. I don't even remember so much as a scrape on the bumper of the cool blue Mustang.

If there was one thing she excelled at, though, it was cooking and running restaurants. Before the Celanese shifts, and the days of interstates and four-lane highways, the truck stop was in fashion. And there were many in and around N'rows, where they lived, and she probably worked at, cooked at, or managed all of them. She was in high demand, and when she left one, there was another wanting her services. And of course, wherever she worked, there the three of us were, and she'd make us free lunches and dinners and let us play around the restaurant all day long.

I'll tell you a little fact, and you can believe me or not, I don't really care. Jacob and I are convinced that Nadine invented the taco salad. When she worked at the really big truck stop (in reputation and size - this place was massive), she concocted a dish that was basically a taco on a plate. Corn chips, cheese, and a hamburger/tomato/chili combination on it. Garnished with lettuce. We'd never seen the like of it before, and it took years for us to start seeing actual taco salads in restaurants.

Oh, and speaking of cool - Nadine used to always bring us the discarded records from the jukeboxes of wherever she was working. The jukebox-changing men would always tell the kids the records had to go back to the jukebox place, but Nadine found a way to wrangle them from him and bring them home to us.

For a time, and it was a very good time in her life, Nadine actually rented a space right on Main Street in N'rows and opened up her own restuarant. It was fantastic. It had a lunch counter, and semi-circular counters on the floor, then various tables and chairs. There was a jukebox (and we got those records, too), and the back of the restaurant had some pinball machines. Then - then! - there was a room in the back that had pool tables. Kids were not allowed to go back there, because of course it was filled with pool-playing grown men, but after the restaurant closed down at about 11pm, she'd let us go back there and look around and shoot some pool. It was as much fun to look around as to shoot pool, simply because we were in the "forbidden area."

But time passes and things change, and the great restaurant came and went, and it was back to the Celanese for good for Nadine. She and Jacob lived with Mamaw Bowles for all that time, in the 124 houses in N'rows Mamaw decided she wanted to live in. (Remember, moving was my grandmother's favorite activity, and she probably lived in 50% of the houses in N'rows. My dad always says that when he was a kid his biggest fear was coming home from school to find that Mamaw had again moved, and he wouldn't be able to find her.)

There were a few years in that, though, where Nadine actually married again. To Stewart. I hated Stewart with a passion. He had an air of superiority, a hair-trigger temper, two completely odious snotnosed kids from a previous marriage, and a batty old mother. And although it was never spelled out in front of the kids, I have a feeling a serious drinking problem. The worst, though, is that he took Nadine away from the three of us girls. Stewart ended up taking his own life, and though while that's always a sad thing, I'm a little embarrassed to say I never missed him for a second.

Nadine was still so young, probably younger than I am now, when she was diagnosed with lung cancer. The doctors found a spot, did a biopsy, and the news came. That was in March of 1979. She died in June, 1979. When they told her the news, they gave her six months, and they were right. Six stinking months left to live, to live a life that consisted of hospitals and surgery and doctors' visits and pain and even being reduced to traveling in a wheelchair. But she was brave, braver than I've ever seen this single woman who raised a child by herself and worked her heart out to be. She kept up hope, even when there wasn't any. But towards the end, she asked her doctor, "What would have happened to me if you hadn't done that biopsy and discovered this?" When he answered, "Well, one night you would have just died in your sleep," she said, "I wish that's what would have happened."

I visited Nadine in the hospital the day after she was diagnosed. She was tired, but happy to see me, and gave me a great big hug from her hospital bed. And she told Jacob and I to go to the local mall to get out of the hospital a while while she napped. We found ourselves at that mall having our picture made with the Easter Bunny. Jacob on one bunny thigh, me on the other. We were smiling, but we weren't happy. I can remember what I was wearing. Jeans and a blue and white striped blouse. I hated that picture, though, because when I looked at it all I could see was finding out about Nadine's cancer. I finally threw it away.

Those six months passed quickly. We knew the end was coming, she'd been taken back to the hospital. We were in B'field when we got the call that they were giving Nadine her last rites. We all got in the car to head to N'rows, but by the time we got there, she was gone. We were all numb.

And remained so during the whole funeral process. After the wake, though, Jacob, my sister, and I went to one of the old haunts where she used to take us and all had an ice cream sundae.

My mom told me that the last time they saw Nadine in the hospital, the day before she died, she was in and out of consciousness, and would repeat occasionally, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I never understood that. I never understood what she could possibly have to be sorry for. She was my idol, my heroine, my buddy, my surrogate mom, and all things warm and fuzzy to me.

That was close to 30 years ago, and she got six months. I can't help but think she was somewhere smiling when the doctor who told my dad he now has lung cancer said, "It's possible you have as many as ten good years ahead of you."

We all could have had a lot more fun if Nadine would have gotten ten years.

I'm doing the podcastathon with Stennie for a lot of people I know, but mainly for my dad and Nadine. If six months can turn into ten years, then that can turn into twenty, and that into, "Here, take this pill and it'll go away." We can hope, anyway.

I'm printing the directions again for making pledges and donations to our podcastathon. If you've already pledged or know them by heart, you're free to skip ahead. I just don't want any new readers to be left out.

1. Go here, to www.hucklebug.com.
2. Read all about it.
3. It will direct you here, to the American Cancer Society online donation site. It's very user-friendly, and will even let you make a donation in memory of someone, or in someone's honor, and it will send a card for you, too!
4. If you don't feel happy with online stuff, go here. It takes you to a page with the American Cancer Society's address for mail-in contributions. Write a check, stamp an envelope, and let the good times roll.
5. Then - and this is very important - Go right back here, this is the hucklebug.com site. Click where it says "comments," and let us know how much you contributed. You don't have to sign up, sign in, leave your name, or anything else. If you want to be anonymous you can, but you can advertise your generosity to us in all capital letters if you like. We need you to do this so we can keep track of how much we're raising for the American Cancer Society.

OR!

If you want to make a pledge and follow up on it after you know we completed the podcastathon, just go here, to the hucklebug.com site, and say, anonymously or not, "I pledge so much." Then when you know we were successful, contribute online or by mail.

Thanks!

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Acrowinners, we have acrowinners. So, besides kicking its ass, what can we do with cancer?
- Honorable Mention goes to LilyG, with her, "Help every lovely oncologist."
- Runner-Up goes to DeepFatFriar, with his, "Healthy eating: Lotsa oranges."
- And this week's winner goes to Kellie with an ie, with her, "Halt. Execute. Level. Obliterate."
- Thanks to all who played, you've all done very well!