Viola and My Mother at the Beach
Viola had naturally very curly hair, wash and wear, and was a makeup minimalist, until her eyebrows thinned. At that point, her expressions relied on her artistic prowess of that particular day. Each visit we were met by either the surprised, quizzical, diabolic, or exasperated Aunt Viola, depending on the artistic brow liner rendition. No matter what, she came off pretty.
Viola in Her Twenties
My mother's middle sis was always laughing and causing laughter, everyone loved her. She was the one who caused the black friend taking the girls (as children) fishing, to lose his temper at her moving about the boat: "Stay where you damn am!" he commanded, and they carried that hilarious admonition with them until they died. Without life preservers, his concern was understandable.
Viola at About Age 10
As a young adult, I bleached my hair and the result was frightening. Aunt Viola drove me to her beautician for emergency repair. On the ride, I covered my effervescent locks with a big fuzzy hat that made me look like a Buckingham Palace Guard. When a man on the street stared at me I lamented, "Boy, he'd really stare if he could see what's under this hat." She screamed laughing and so did I.
One of the last times I visited her she said, "There's my baby!" I was 50 something at the time. She adored her husband and two sons and lived her time loving and pleasing them. How we miss her.
Viola in Her Eighties with Me and Grandson Sam