beginning s
with June Rollins
Rummikub Christmas 1995. LR: Standing, my brother Bill, my father, Ray, C.D. considering his next move, my mother, Sabra in pink, and Thelma. I was there too. I’m the one holding the camera.
Memories of Christmas Past It’s easy to lose touch with family and friends over the years. Since I’ve had more time at home, I’ve been writing letters. A few days ago, I thought I’d write to Thelma. We normally only exchange Christmas cards. Every year, her card is always the first I receive on the day after Thanksgiving. She’s efficient and organized that way. My late great uncle and Thelma were a couple since I was a little. They maintained separate households, but went out to eat often and attended all of the town’s high school basketball and football games, home and away. C.D. always brought Thelma to our family Christmas dinners and she always brought her seven-layer salad, which I loved. She also brought her banana pudding, which my mother did not love. Every Christmas, side by side on the dessert table, set my mother’s banana pudding, warm from the oven with its gently browned, piled-high fluffy meringue topping and Thelma’s delightfully chilled and creamy-sweet banana pudding. “I’d like some of Thelma’s banana pudding,” My father would say. My mother would shake her head and whisper to me, “It’s not the real kind. It’s out of a box.” I liked Thelma’s better too, but I wasn’t about to say so. Talkative, friendly and lively, Thelma added a lot to our holiday gatherings. After the dishes were washed and put away, she was always the first who wanted to play Rummikub. She also usually always won. Our family would take turns rotating who would be up against Thelma because her enthusiasm wore us out. There was always loud cackling laughter at whatever the outcome. I only remember a time or two of, “That’s not how we usually play. Somebody 16
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check the rules.” Thelma and C.D. never married. That is, not until my great uncle was on his deathbed two years ago in the hospital. In a letter, Thelma told me she held flowers from the hospital gift shop while their Pastor pronounced them husband and wife. At their private reception, the nurses cut wedding cake and poured diet Sprite to celebrate. When I was looking for Thelma’s address a few days ago, I couldn’t find it. I knew she had moved into my great uncle’s house on 7th Street and finally googled her. I wasn’t prepared for what came up. Thelma passed away March 20th of this year. How is it that someone who was on the periphery of your life can take you back to your childhood in an instant? Even though years have gone by, they don’t change or age. I guess I become young again too, which is how it’s felt with all of these memories, flooding in since reading Thelma’s obituary. My older brother and I are the only two left now from those who attended our family Christmas gatherings. He’s married and living in another state. We won’t see each other over the holidays, but we will email. Maybe I’ll tell him about Thelma. He thought a lot of her too. I’m pretending when I read this remembrance of Thelma in the YVM November issue, it’s an early Christmas card from her this year. I may even ask Rob to play a game of Rummikub with me. I still have that same set we used so many years ago, Precious memories and love to all.
June
