Mama, Aunt Nellie Ruth, and Sex Talk

I’ve been thinking about my mother a lot here lately. September 15 of this year will mark the second anniversary of her death.

Mama had a great sense of humor and it is her laughter that I miss most. She came from a large family, 17 of them in all. Four of her siblings have survived her. My Uncle David, the youngest, has my mother’s sense of humor. We talk frequently and he always makes me laugh.

My mother’s oldest surviving sister, my Aunt Nellie Ruth, is in her mid 80’s. She and Mama were entertaining individually but together, they were ready for Saturday Night Live or Def Comedy Jam.

A few years ago, we were having Thanksgiving dinner at my parents' home, when my aunt announced that she had dreamed that her deceased husband, Turner, was standing in her bedroom. My father, who should have known better, inquired, "So Nellie Ruth, what do you think Turner wanted?"

"He looked like he wanted to," pause for effect, "have sex."

Without missing a beat my mother responded, "With whom?"

My aunt proceeded to explain that she was still a fine looking woman and that she could have any man that she wanted. She then gave my brother-in-law the eye, turned to my sister and announced, "I could have your man if I wanted him." I don't know what was said after that as I had to leave the dining table to get a cloth to clean up the iced tea that I had sputtered all over my plate. Never laugh when you have a beverage in your mouth.

I think my sister has never forgiven our aunt for having designs on her husband.

Aunt Nellie Ruth is actually a very proper lady; she never shows her bosom. She always tucks a scarf into the neckline of any dress that she fears may reveal her bosom. Actually, she refers to it in the plural, as in, "my bosoms." She has a yellow chiffon yard sale find that she wears a t-shirt under so as not to drive men wild with a glimpse of her bosoms.

I witnessed my favorite exchange between my mother and her older sister a couple of summers ago. I accompanied my mother to my aunt's home where she was sitting on the front porch. It was August; it was hot; and my aunt was sitting on her front porch with a paper fan and a fly swatter. Aunt Nellie Ruth isn't fond of air conditioning; she says it makes her joints hurt. Mama and I joined her on the porch and we were all making small talk, when a huge old beige Cadillac with shiny tail fins pulled up and parked in front of the apartment next door. The elderly driver took ten minutes to extricate himself from behind the wheel, nodded good day at us, and slowly shuffled into his home.

As soon as he closed the door, my aunt spoke up, "He ought to be 'shamed of himself, carrying on like that at his age."

My mother swatted at a fly with a rolled up magazine and gave her sister a puzzled look, "Ruth," my mother called her by one name, either Nellie or Ruth, when she felt that it might be necessary to chastise my aunt in some way, "what are you talking about?"

"He's been 'round to his girlfriend's house, laying up in there with her all weekend. It's just acting common; they don't even try to hide it."

I paused in my fanning and perked up at this allusion to sex among the elderly. My mother sniffed dismissively, "Ruth that man is over 80 years old and he can't even stand up straight, let alone have sex with anyone."

There was a pregnant pause as Aunt Nellie Ruth mulled this over before offering her counterpoint, "He could be having oral sex."

With another emphatic sniff, my mother opined, "He doesn't have enough breath to have oral sex."

The water that I was drinking went down the wrong way and I was racked with coughing spasms that were so distracting that my aunt neglected to make a follow up response. I vowed to stop drinking any liquids when I was in her presence.

Conversation just isn’t the same without Mama.