Aunt Missy and Uncle Arnold

Several days ago, we stopped at Kroger's off Champion Forest Drive to buy a few items. Coming up an aisle, I noticed a little boy about three pulling away from his mother. He said, "I've got to go. Now!"
"We're almost ready to check out. Can't you wait?"
"No," he answered, pulling all the harder on her hand.

I volunteered to watch their cart, and off they went to the bathroom. This incident propelled me back many years to the spring of 1937/38.

My memory is faint, but this story was told again and again by the family. Whether they were teasing Aunt Missy or me wasn't clear.

It happened this way. Aunt M and I were shopping in downtown Birmingham when I was about three years old. We had just departed Loveman's, a large department store on the corner of 3rd Ave and 18th Street. I told her that I had to go to the bathroom.

She said, "Why didn't you tell me in Loveman's? They have nice toilets."
"I didn't have to go then."
"Well, you'll just have to hold it. Your daddy's store is just a few blocks away."
I said, "I can't hold it much longer."

When we reached the corner of 17th Street and 2nd Ave., I unbuttoned my pants with my left hand — Aunt Missy was holding my right hand — fished out my tallywacker and proceeded to urinate as we crossed the street.

Aunt M was mortified. Here she was, dressed up in hat and gloves, with a little boy misbehaving in public. She pulled me along, telling me to stop, but I couldn't. Looking up, I saw people's faces in the windows of a passing streetcar. They were laughing and pointing at us.

I said, "If you wouldn't drag me, I could pee straight."
I didn't understand what the fuss was about. A boy has to go when a boy has to go.

When we got to Granddad's store, she told Dad what I had done. Dad smiled.

Aunt Missy was my mother's older sister. She and her husband, Uncle Arnold Brauniger, lived next door. They were childless and gave me all the love they would have given their own. Growing up, I spent as much time with them as with my parents. Aunt M was never too busy to fix me a special treat. She read to me, played games with me, and she took me everywhere. Mother and Aunt M were best friends as well as sisters.

Aunt M was barely five feet tall and slender. Energetic and feisty, she could be obstinate and difficult when crossed. Uncle Arnold received the brunt of her straw-boss manner. Mother fussed often about the way she nagged Uncle Arnold. Aunt M would grin and say, "Men need that. It keeps them in line."

Of second-generation German descent, Uncle Arnold Brauniger grew up in Lorraine, Ohio. Aunt M was his second wife and 20 years younger. He adored and spoiled her. Tall at 6 foot one and of athletic build, Uncle Arnold was a dapper dresser. Combined with his neat, pencil-thin mustache and elegant manners, he resembled a Hollywood actor. With a carnation in the lapel of his suit on Sundays, one expected him to begin tap dancing at any moment.

Uncle Arnold owned a roofing business and traveled extensively about the city providing estimates. Often I accompanied him on his calls. Always wearing a coat, tie and hat, even on the hottest summer days, Uncle Arnold would take his measurements and calculate an installed price. He would close with, "I'd like to have your business. We do very good work, and you will be satisfied. Here are some references." Usually, he got the job. I attributed his success to the courteous and respectful way he talked to people.

I spent much time with him, and two incidents stand out. Once when I was about eight (1942), I ran through the house and slammed the back door. Uncle stopped me and said, "Fella" — everyone called me Fella — "gentlemen open and close doors gently. It's a sign of good breeding." I've never forgotten that advice, and I like the feeling of disciplined control it gives me.

Uncle Arnold was a devout Christian Scientist, and on many Sunday mornings I went with him to church. I enjoyed the services. One Sunday, he invited a Christian Science Practitioner to dinner. This was an elderly gentleman who explained their science of mind and health to me.

Basically, he maintained that we over medicate ourselves to compensate for bad mental habits. If we cultivated positive mental health, most of our physical ailments would disappear. I was impressed. After dinner, he said a prayer for the family, excused himself, and departed.

As soon as he left, Uncle Arnold turned to Aunt M and said, "Missy, please bring me an aspirin. I have an awful headache." Aunt M doubled over laughing. Even I saw the irony. I felt sorry for Uncle Arnold. He looked very sad.

Aunt Missy and Uncle Arnold passed away many years ago. I think of them often. They were always there cheering me on. They cared about me and never asked for anything but my presence.