In which I adopt an aunt and she adopts me.

At my great-grandmother's 95th birthday gathering

In 1946 a thin, fourteen year old boy called Roger Wood stepped off a train in Bay City, Michigan. He was wearing the gray military style uniform with brass buttons that students were required to wear at the California boarding school that he had been attending. My grandmother, her new husband (Roger’s adoptive father), and my six year old mother where there to meet him at the train station. Roger was about to start a new life, living with his stepfather, Chauncey Wood, his new stepmother, my grandmother Dorothy and a little six year old stepsister. My grandmother went on to have a little boy, Jon, and a girl, Carla, not long after Roger’s joined the family. 

   After graduating from high school, Roger served in the army and then the navy. He married Martha, a speech therapy teacher, and when they retired the couple moved to Las Vegas. 

   In 1970, when I was still an infant, my parents traveled from where they lived in Beirut, Lebanon, to Bay City to attend a family celebration; my maternal great-grandmother was turning ninety-five and the whole family was gathering for a reunion and party. I met my Uncle Roger and Martha for the first time then, though I don’t, of course, remember doing so. Later that year my parents and I flew back to Michigan to attend my aunt Carla’s wedding, and I have photos of the wedding party, which include Uncle Roger and Martha, Aunt Carla and her new husband Ward, Uncle Jon and his wife and baby son, and my parents and me. 

   Many years later, in 1993, Roger and Martha flew from their home in Las Vegas to attend my American wedding, which was being held in my husband’s home state of Minnesota. My husband and I had already been married in Cyprus for my family and friends there, and we decided that we would have a second ceremony in the U.S. for our American families and friends. Over a decade later the family gathered in Cincinnati for another wedding, this time for my cousin Ben. My daughter Elise got to meet many of the members of her mother’s American family, including Uncle Roger and Aunt Martha, whom she had never met before.

   The next time I saw Martha, whose husband had passed away in 2015, was years later when Elise, Brian, and I made a brief stop in Las Vegas on our way to visit Zion and Bryce National Parks. We had lunch with Martha in a restaurant, and that was the longest proper visit that I had had with her to date. 

   Early in January of this year my uncle Ward, Aunt Martha, Aunt Martha’s friend and neighbor, and I started having talks on the phone. We came to understand that Aunt Martha, at the age of ninety-two, had decided that she is tired of managing her house and all the responsibilities that that entails. We discussed various options with Martha and she decided that she wanted to move into an independent living apartment complex here in Ashland. She had began her life in a small, close-knit town so it seems fitting that her last home will be in a small, friendly town.

   On January 12th I flew out to Las Vegas to get the moving process started. I had no idea what to expect and the whole situation felt so odd. Here I was, moving an elder I barely knew, seven hundred miles to a place she had never even been to. 

   For the next five days I plowed my way through mountains of paperwork, sorting, organizing, and familiarizing myself with her financials. We went to the bank, met with a realtor, and talked to an estate sale lady. Most of important of all, Aunt Martha and I began to get to know each other. 

   I started to learn the story of this extraordinary lady, whose early life was very difficult; she was adopted not once but twice before she reached the age of ten. Martha got a BA and MA at Michigan State and then became a speech therapist. She helped hundreds of children with speech problems learn how to communicate with the world, giving them opportunities that they would not have been able to have otherwise. Once she retired, she began to attend and teach classes at the Las Vegas chapter of the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute (OLLI). OLLI provides people, mostly over the age of fifty-five, with the opportunity to learn about a variety of subjects. It is a nationwide organization, and we have a chapter here in Ashland that is hosted by Southern Oregon University. 

   As we grew more comfortable with each other, we began to tease one another, remind each other to eat, and Aunt Martha shared stories and family photos with me. In those five days I grew to care very much for this special lady. 

   I never thought that I would become a care giver for an elder. It is a huge responsibility, but I don’t consider this new role in my life to be a burden. Not at all. Where I grew up in the Middle East we care for our elders when they need us. They are the respected keepers of the stories, and of the crafts and skills that many societies are now losing. They were once the care givers of children, and often grandchildren, as well, and it is a privilege to serve as their care givers when they need our support. I feel both honored and happy to do this for Martha. I have never had a member of my American family living in the same state as me, let alone in the same town, and I look forward to getting to know her better. 

   In under a month I have got to know a family member who was never much a part of my life. Indeed, our connection is such that we have decided that we are going to ‘adopt’ each other. I feel both grateful and pleased to be a part of this ‘partnership,’ with a lady who is kind, intelligent, curious, brave, and generous. She also has a delightful sense of humor that I so appreciate. We are lucky to have each other.

   

   

The photo shows from left to right:

The Gentlemen: Uncle Jon, Uncle Roger, my step grandfather, Uncle Ward, and my father

The Ladies: Aunt Jill with my cousin Jason on her lap, Aunt Martha, my grandmother, my great-grandmother, Aunt Carla, and my mother with me on her lap