Pharos-Tribune

Local Columnists

March 11, 2010

One aunt’s failures

Has anybody ever melted your heart?

It’s happened to me, once, and I’ll cherish the moment for the rest of my life.

This has been almost 20 years ago, but I remember it vividly. My nieces and nephew were down in the basement at Mom’s playing “Duck Hunt” on the original Nintendo.

Quinn was 2 or 3, which would have made Karlie 6 or 7 and Kate 11 or 12.

I was upstairs in the family room when Quinn came up the basement stairs.

He came over to me and said in a sad voice, “Aunt Debbie, they won’t let me shoot the ducks.”

And with that sentence, my heart melted. I wanted to scoop him up into my arms, but, for some reason, I didn’t. Instead, I headed downstairs to talk with the girls about sharing and letting their little brother play, too.

I don’t see them much anymore, just during Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. Quinn, 22, is a senior at Western Kentucky. Kate, 30, lives in Westfield with her husband, Jeff, and their sons, Alex and Will, while Karlie, 25, lives and works in Indianapolis.

I remember when Kate was born because I was a freshman in college, spending that first year at Arizona State University in Tempe, Ariz., before transferring to Indiana University in Bloomington.

My brother made the call, telling me I had a niece — Katie Elizabeth — born April 5, 1979. It was a nice gesture. I don’t remember how long she was or how much she weighed because I’ve never understood the significance of those two numbers. Maybe if I had ever been pregnant I would.

Karlie Marie came along 5 years later, born on July 17, 1984, while Quinn made his debut on Sept. 8, 1987.

I was surprised when the announcement was made that Mike’s wife, Betsy, was pregnant. Shortly after they married in 1972 or ’73, they told me that they weren’t going to have any children because they were afraid they’d have a child like me. Apparently, having another me around was, in their minds, a bad thing.

Like many first-time parents, most of the photographs I have are of Kate, my first niece. The same holds true with the number of second-hand anecdotes I can share.

One of my favorite stories involves Kate, then 5, and my mom. They were shopping when Mom asked Kate what she would like to have. Kate’s reply?

“I’ll tell you what I don’t want, and it’s a baby sister.”

Kate had ruled the roost for five years and probably didn’t want any attention thrown Karlie’s way.

A couple of other stories took place at my brother and sister-in-law’s. One morning, they came into the kitchen where they saw that Kate had emptied out an entire box of cereal onto the floor. When she was asked what she was doing, she told them, “I’m walkin’ on the beach.”

The third one I remember happened in the yard at Mike and Betsy’s. Kate had been riding her tricycle when one of the wheels got stuck in a hole. Frustrated, Kate said, “Jesus H. Christ.”

When she saw her mom and realized she was going to get in trouble, Kate finished the sentence by adding, “Please help me get my trike out of this hole.”

Unfortunately, I don’t have any stories about Karlie or Quinn because I haven’t been a very good aunt. 

I only attended a few of Quinn’s freshman basketball games and maybe one game when he was playing varsity. I did, however, make it to Indianapolis twice when he played his way to the state finals in tennis. 

I didn’t see Karlie in Peru’s amateur circus or Kate playing on the high school tennis team. Though I did catch a few of Karlie’s matches.

I’m filled with regrets that they grew up while I wasn’t paying attention. Unlike Aunt Evie, I don’t send them cards marking special occasions, and I never get to see them when they’re at their parents’ house, unless, of course it’s a holiday. Then again, this past Christmas was kind of squirrely, and I didn’t have a chance to celebrate with them. But, Karlie, Quinn and great-nephew Alex came to Mom’s house to say hello. I’ve yet to see my second great-nephew, Will.

Though I’ll treasure the memory of Quinn melting my heart, I’ll regret not being there while they grew up. And there’s always time to set things right, right?

• Deb Saine is a columnist for the Pharos-Tribune. She can be reached through the newspaper at ptnews@pharostribune.com.

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