The Joy of Great Aunt Lydia

I wrote this note when my Great Aunt passed away. One of my favorite memories of her was when I was in high school preparing for a pre-season field hockey game against Severn High School. First, I must say that the adjectives, "demure", "quiet", "shy", "small" were never used to describe my Aunt Liddie. And I remember that overcast day with a slight chill in the air, looking up from our warm ups to see my Aunt galloping across the hockey field, waving erratically and yelling, "Laura! Laura!" in a booming voice that was distinctive, yet heartfelt. I do not remember being embarrassed, but I do remember chuckling as a smile drew itself upon my face and giggling, "Oh, Aunt Liddie". You were an indescribable woman (although I make an attempt in the following paragraphs) but I am glad you continue to live in my heart and in my laugh. Here's to you:

Every family should have an Aunt Lydia. This reading could end right here. If you had the pleasure of knowing Lydia Pohlner those few words speak volumes. I was fortunate enough to be her great niece so I would like to share a few moments of your time remembering a one-of-a-kind woman.

Summers and special occasions were spent with Aunt Lydia. The family would gather at her cottage in Severna Park for the standard Maryland celebration of steamed crabs, crab cakes, corn on the cob, crab soup and cold beer. Laughter and stories infiltrated her backyard with a quick and clever attack, one that often left us breathless and stomachs hurting. The only cure was to head to the river where human cannonballs were launched from the upper deck soaking cousins, aunts and uncles sitting on the pier anticipating the inevitable soaking.

My cousin and I spent a few weeks with Aunt Lydia and Uncle Paul in the summer of gas lines, economic turmoil and political upheaval, all of which we were rendered clueless. We were transported to the Severn River in a sweet Chevrolet Camero with a wide stripe up the hood and down the tail. The interior of the car smelled of leather, sand, sweat and saltwater. Scott and I would sit in the backseat looking at the back of Aunt Lydia’s short, silver hair rustling in the hot breeze. Years later, that same car would shuttle me to and from classes at East Carolina University in Greenville, North Carolina. The low rumble that emanated from the engine reminded me of brackish water, jelly fish, crabbing expeditions and multiple giggle marathons. A simpler time.

Although Aunt Lydia may not have been aware, she taught me independence in a woman is a good trait. She taught me to spend wisely, not wastefully. Looking after others less fortunate is expected of us, but not to be lauded in the limelight.  She taught me women can enjoy a cold beer and should on occasion. She, along with her sister and four nieces, taught me that laughter will solve most problems and is easier on the ears than harsh words. That being said, Aunt Lydia also taught me that sometimes harsh words are needed and children and animals are much more enjoyable than adults.

Aunt Lydia was not a perfectionist or a perfect person. Her faults were intensely apparent and if I am correct in remembering, she did not apologize for her shortcomings. She expected you to accept her as she presented herself and I guess, Aunt Lydia, I should thank you for that, too. Because I have learned to enjoy the “real” in people, a trait that is harder and harder to find in today’s world. You have left your mark, Aunt Lydia, on our hearts and within our family. For these moments, I thank you. I look forward to sharing mental snapshots of your life with my children and I hope you will leave a mark on them as well. God Bless and whenever I hear thunder in the skies, I will know Grandmom, Granddad, Uncle Paul, Aunt Grace and you are having a wonderful time in heaven, laughing with the angels. Cheers!