Yesterday I went with my parents to the funeral of my father’s sister – and my favorite aunt – Regina (Jean) DeMaroney. She passed away on Sunday, June 12th, at the age of 83, in Madison, Wisconsin, where she and my uncle had moved several years ago, to be close to their only daughter; and their grandchildren and great-grandchildren. But the service was held in her hometown area of Standfordville, New York, at a picturesque country church filled with many relatives, love and memories.
My cousin Heather, Aunt Jean’s granddaughter, gave a heartfelt eulogy, emphasizing Aunt Jean’s love of family, and also her sense of fun and humor. Heather said that some of her best memories were of summers spent here in New York, and told of shopping trips and drives that were always adventures with Aunt Jean at the wheel! I remember many of them myself – when my sister and I were kids, she’d take my mom and us out, in her blue ‘60s Camaro convertible. My sister and I would sit in the back and beg her to put the top down. She always did, just for us, at the end of the drive, when it wouldn’t matter so much if her hair got windblown.
Then, other family members were invited to share their memories. At first, I thought I wouldn’t, because I’m not comfortable speaking in front of an audience. But, as I heard relatives remembering Aunt Jean’s great fashion sense; the pride she took in having a beautiful home; and how she was so helpful with renovating a cousin’s fixer-upper house, I felt that I wanted to talk about the love of books and writing that Aunt Jean and I shared. So, despite my discomfort and heightened emotion, I did. And I’m glad that I was able to honor my aunt’s creative side that was so inspiring to me.
I’ve been an avid reader since I first learned to read, and I’ve aspired to be a writer since I first learned to make up and write down stories in school. Aunt Jean was always interested in my stories, and encouraged me with my writing and reading. When she and my Uncle Lanny visited, I’d write little stories with pictures and give them to her. One story, that I wrote when I was in second grade, was about my cat Blackie. Many years later, when she hosted a family picnic, Aunt Jean brought out that little story and read it aloud to all of the relatives, to my chagrin and amusement! But she wanted everyone to know that she always believed in my writing talent. She was always interested to hear about my latest class paper, story idea or work-in-progress, and was proud of my high grades in English.
Whenever my family and I visited my aunt and uncle, they encouraged me to peruse their bookshelves, full of bestselling novels, interesting biographies and history titles. I borrowed and read many of their books, from Stephen King’s Carrie to Jessamyn West’s The Friendly Persuasion to Antonia Fraser’s Mary, Queen of Scots. And my aunt and I have had many great discussions about books over the years.
And sometimes, Aunt Jean would share poems that she’d written with me. She liked to write them, as an expression of her thoughts and feelings about the world around her, and she appreciated my feedback. But it seemed like writing was mostly an enjoyable hobby for her.
Until one day when she called and told me that she’d written a children’s picture book, and she wanted me to illustrate it. I wasn’t sure I could do it. I told her that I’m not an artist – I hadn’t picked up a paintbrush or even crayon since my school days (I was in my mid-twenties then). But she said she’d always loved my drawings, and she was sure I could bring her book to life. So how could I say no? Especially when she came over with the story – it was a sweet tale of an ant named Beauregard, and the adventures he had on a journey to visit his relatives in the big city. She’d also brought me some drawing paper and colored pencils, so I gave it a try. Over the next several months, she described the details of the story’s scenes that she envisioned, and I did my best to create drawings that matched, with her encouragement. The pictures turned out pretty well, and I was glad that she was pleased with them. It was an enjoyable and memorable collaboration.
She dreamed of sharing her book with children. My sister typed and proofread the manuscript, and Aunt Jean created a model copy of her book. She showed it to a local children’s book author once, and called me, enthused with the feedback. The author had said that the story was charming, and advised my aunt to take some courses to further develop her writing. I was so glad for her – I know how valuable positive professional feedback can be. And I encouraged her keep pursuing her goals, just as she always encouraged me.
When my aunt and uncle moved to Wisconsin, she enrolled in a creative writing class at the local college. At nearly sixty, she was one of the older students, but that didn’t deter her. She’d call me with the news of her latest assignment, excited that she’d shared her work with the teacher and students of all ages and backgrounds, and happy to hear their comments. She wrote poems in several different poetic forms; short stories; and a non-fiction piece about an unsolved murder that had happened decades ago in the area where she grew up and had fascinated her since she was young.
But her Beauregard story was still her favorite. And she had the opportunity to read it to the kids in the class that her daughter taught, and called to excitedly tell me about her experience. The children were delighted with the story, even drew their own pictures of their favorite scenes. It meant a lot to her to see and hear the natural reactions of the audience that the story was intended for, and even more, that they responded to it by creating artwork of their own. She was thrilled that she’d realized her dream of sharing her story with children; she was truly a children’s writer.
Aunt Jean has inspired me with her creative pursuits – she never let her age or lack of a literary college degree keep her from working toward her goals. And she always found enjoyment in her creativity, as much as in her finished works and her accomplishments.
So I’ll keep my aunt’s inspiration with me always, as I continue working on my own writing projects. And whenever I feel that my goals are a long-shot, or that I’m getting too old to keep it up, or I start to wonder why I’m still doing this, I’ll remember – Aunt Jean always kept reaching for her dreams. And I’ll be inspired to keep reaching for mine.
Thanks, Aunt Jean… with love.
