MAE JULIAN
The Small Things We Remember
It was just a small thing. ‑A tiny remembrance that has come into my head hundreds of times since my dad died in 1970. ‑We were in the Waynedale Methodist Church, and the congregation was standing for a prayer. I don’t remember the prayer, the preacher, or what time of year it was. What I remember is that my hands were on the back of the pew ahead of me. Beside me stood my father. His hands were also on the back of the pew. For whatever reason, he reached his little finger over and crossed my little finger with his. A tiny squeeze held until the end of the prayer, and we sat down. What an odd thing to remember. So small, so seemingly insignificant, and so life-confirming.
Then, the other day I thought of it again. I began to think of other relatives, and tried to make my mind flash, giving myself only a second to think of something about them. Oh, my!! ‑What a revelation. Here goes: ‑Aunt Evy made an Angel food cake with the most wonderful caramel icing, Unk took me in his Jeep on cold days to do my paper route, ‑Grandma sat with me on the porch swing at her house, held my hand and hummed, Uncle Will always sat in his rocking chair at his radio, his head tilted, listening to sports, Aunt Cecil banged out the most incredible Jazz music on her piano. ‑Uncle George belted out songs as he drove along pounding out the rhythm on the steering wheel, Aunt Mary cut her meatloaf thick, and placed it on my plate with a wide cake knife, Aunt Ruth could wring a chicken’s neck, scald it, defeather it, and fry it, all in less than an hour.
I won’t go on and on, like I could, but I noticed some interesting things when my “one-second memories” came back to me. Not one of them involved a present, money, or reward. They were just an assemblage of intangible loving things that were given to me that have stayed forever in my heart and mind. None of the people mentioned above are now alive. My dad once said that if you want to know how important you are, or how well you will be remembered, to put your fist in a pail of water. Then, when you pull your fist out, notice how quickly the water fills in the hole. Well, now, I think my dad was a wise man, but he was wrong about this. I remember.
The funny thing is, none of the things I remember as precious would be remembered by the “giver” if he/she were alive. They were everyday gifts of love and endearment. When we think of how much we should spend on Christmas or a child’s birthday, or whether we are meeting their material needs, remember this message: A child remembers the gifts of endearment we give them, sometimes, just in passing. These are the things that tell them that they are loved and treasured. Sometimes it is just the observance of them that stays forever in our minds. Always keep in mind what they are observing.
I am sending you a picture of my wonderful Grandmother, Mae Julian, a stage actress and a milliner. She made the hat in this picture. She was a gift, just because she existed and shared her love, just as the others did. I am indeed fortunate that I was born into a family that knew what was important.
Lovingly,
Mae Julian
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