Sally-ann

Sisters, Raetha, Sally and Cindy, circa 1980

Baby Henekis and Sally

Sally with Nellie at Kali and Jen's wedding in August

Yesterday Patrick and I were walking home from his running club and he said, apropos of nothing, "Auntie Sally was so sweet to me to me the other day." He then told me about an afternoon at least a month ago where he was home alone for a short time after school. Sally called and he told her he was alone and she asked him if he wanted her to come over to keep him company and he said "yes" and she did. Patrick said, "She knew I was lonely, so she came over so I wouldn't be lonely." Pat and I then talked about how that is the way our Auntie Sally is: if you need her, she'll be there faster than is legally possible. For me, that truth defines her. I love her.
She wrote the following about growing up and our family. (I must get my propensity for starting emails and phone conversations mid-thought from her.)


And we had the first stereo and more albums and more books than everyone in the community put together, and everyone laughed when they were in our house; and our mother told us stories about loving having a profession (the only woman in the community that worked), of the time she sat Cindy outside the door of the Westinghouse Office holding onto baby me so she could go talk to them without them knowing she had children (lest they took her job away) and she told us stories of the births of her children (when other kids didn’t even know where babies came from); and Daddy told us we could not judge ANYONE unless we did it with our eyes shut and had reasons about their person which caused us not to like them; and mom and dad argued about politics – he wanted her to stay home on voting day so she wouldn’t cancel his vote, but he loved her independence more than the vote; and we had big feasts in the formal dining room in Portsmouth, and in the side yard at Nana and Ganka’s; we partied with the Boardman’s and Sheridan’s and Uncle Billy with Donna when they all came to camp at the same time – all those kids to play with, all that happy adult noise! I listen to the next generations and I think, hummmm, we had the best music, books, laughter, a mom who valued independence and work, high ethical expectations, political discourse, great food parties and so much play. Sounds like our children and their children. I think we told them too much about that time that was so hard, and the mistakes our parents made, and not enough of the rest. I know I’ve made that mistake. When you have a really good young childhood any of the missteps look monumental because your parents don’t seem like parents they seem like the best gift under the Christmas tree.