Carol Unger, 1931 - 2003

From Debby

(Hi Kate - it's long. Just cut out what drags on - it's okay. I just couldn't pare it down anymore than I have. I'll be thinking of you this weekend. I do wish I could be there, especially on the boat. I'm going to send it to Tom too - just in case you don't check your email before leaving. Debbie)

I can't remember a time when Aunt Carol wasn't a part of my life. She was always there. I was nearly three years old before I realized Aunt wasn't part of her name and a title of respect instead. I thought Aunt Carol was a name like Mary Beth. It was only on a trip that Aunt Carol, my Mom, Tom, Cheryl and I took to Rockford one summer that I realized the difference.

Probably one of my earliest memories of Aunt Carol is holding Tom as a baby. I was barely two and Aunt Carol let me hold him. I just loved Tom. There are probably very few other aunts who would let a child that young hold her baby, but she always had this knack of knowing what you were capable of.

I can remember going down to Detroit and just loving the house they lived in off of Eight Mile. Only Aunt Carol would break through a brick wall and create a secret hideaway club house beneath the stairs for her kids. Every time we visited, there was another nifty toy. I think my favorite was the merry go round in the dining room. We would twirl on that thing for hours. Every now and then Aunt Carol would ask if I wanted to stay longer and I would stay for a few days. Even missing school. I remember on one of those extended visits we went up to Birmingham to look at houses. We drove all over, with Aunt Carol pointing out where my Dad went to elementary and high schools - buildings no one had ever shown me. I still remember her pointing out the house where my Dad's best friend lived and soon after, she bought a house just down the street from Webber's. I always enjoyed the insight she gave me about my parents, things they never mentioned.

When I was eight, Aunt Carol, Uncle Al, Tom and Kate took a trip up to Lake Kabenung. On their way up north, they spent the night at our house and invited me to go along. The next morning my suitcase was tucked into the crammed trunk of a '59 Chevy and my teddy bear and I were added to the back seat with Kate and Tom. All was going well until we got to the Soo. And for whatever reason, the Canadians wanted to search the trunk. That trunk was large enough to hold half of a house and every inch was packed with something. A tent, sleeping bags, cots, camping equipment, beach toys, suitcases, etc... It probably took the custom guys twenty minutes to unload it all. And then they announced we weren't smuggling any contraband in and walked away. With all the contents all over the parking lot. I think it took well over an hour to get it all back in.

With the delay, Aunt Carol was worried about getting to Lake Kabenung before dark. So off we went - on that winding road at 80 mph, passing every car she encountered. When she wasn't passing cars, she was tailgating or taking the curves so fast we were bobbing in the back seat - you all remember her driving back before she fell in love with those Datsuns. It was terrifying. At one point she was passing a car on a curve and nearly ran head on into an oncoming car - we ended up on the opposite shoulder. I never ever saw Uncle Al so mad. I was amazed I was still alive. I think even Aunt Carol was shook up since we didn't pass too many more cars on the way to WaWa.

We finally did arrive in WaWa in the late afternoon and the '59 Chevy refused to go any further. I'm not sure how word got to Grandpa, but he came down in the Jeep and loaded us, my teddy bear, some luggage into the Jeep and we set off to the lake with me perched over the rear wheel. And about ten minutes later, the cotton candy I'd eaten at the gas station came up. All over Uncle Al and my teddy bear.

Which surprised everyone since I'd never been car sick before. They all decided I must be sick. So they pampered me and made me a bed to sleep on the front window seat - it being decided Heaven would be too much for me until I was well. But what I remember most is Aunt Carol spending well over an hour cleaning up my teddy bear for me that night. My favorite babysitter had given me
the bear the year before and I was devastated that he might be ruined. I'm sure her first thought was to throw the bear out, but instead she cleaned him up for me.

A little out of character for her, but when she knew something meant a lot to someone, she went out of her way to make sure they had it. All of my life she would do little things like that for me. At Easter - she would show up with a purple dyed Easter egg for me - she did that up until she moved to Port Townsend. If her gas station was giving away Michigan State glasses with every fill up, she collected them for me. When my brothers fed my Barbies to the dog, she bought Barbies at garage sales to replace them. When she heard my Dad was stalling about paying for bar review courses, she mentioned it to Grandfather and he called offering to pay for the courses.

In the early 70's, Aunt Carol won the dollhouse in a straw pull. My Mom and Aunt Ellie were devastated. They both had dreams for that dollhouse. My Mom was instead given an ornate antique shadow box frame with a hair wreath in it. In the late 1800's, women would save the hair in their brushes and weave it into intricate wreaths. I loved that wreath and wanted it. My Mom's first thought was to toss it and use the frame for something else. But since I liked the wreath - she took it from one restoration place to another, looking for someone who could clean the dust out of the frame. No one would touch it, afraid that the wreath would fall apart. It was way too dusty inside to be hung on a wall.

Aunt Carol fell in love with the frame. She spent at least six years trying to talk me out of it. And you all know how persistent she could be when she wanted something. I think she was up to $100 at one point and I wouldn't budge - I was driving her nuts. Then one summer, Kate wasn't using the dollhouse anymore and Aunt Carol offered me the dollhouse and $50. I could tell my Mom really wanted the dollhouse. So I swapped the hair wreath for the doll house. And always regretted it. When Aunt Carol moved out to Washington, I asked her if she had ever done anything with the frame and wreath. I figured she has tossed the wreath and used the frame for something. It turns out she never touched it, it sat on a shelf in her basement and she sold it in a garage sale the week before I asked about it. If I'd asked sooner - I would have had that hair wreath back.

And those Datsuns with the rust and the duct tape. I remember the first one she had, she drove my Mom, Tom, Kate, Scott, Andy and I up to Lake Kabenung in it one summer. How they fit five kids and luggage in the back, I'll never know. But I do remember hitting my head on the ceiling a lot and being very cramped. I remember on the return trip, Grandpa was going down to the Soo and we all scrambled to get into the Suburban to avoid a few hours in the Datsun.

I think what I remember the most is all the summer evenings on the screen porch at Grosse Ile or at Sage Lake - staying up late with my Mom and Aunt Carol - playing cards with them. Having Aunt Carol tease me that I cheated when I'd win. Or just listening to them talk. And talk they did. About everything. And even as a ten year old, they'd let me join the conversation.

Aunt Carol had a special way with kids. A way of stroking their self-esteem and giving them confidence. I can remember her teaching one of my friends how to serve a volleyball - that friend still talks about that afternoon and how much fun it was. I remember her teaching me how to sail when I was seven or eight in a little sunfish. And I remember how dedicated she was to the kids in her PE classes. I'll never forget how she got orange traffic cones for her classes, she would wait for events at the Silverdome and Tom and Kate would hang out of the station wagon and grab the cones as she drove along. One way or another the city of Pontiac was going to provide the materials she needed for her classes.

When I look back over all of the stories and memories I have of her, I remember the softness that she often hid. Her love of gardening and all of those gorgeous plants. Her avid interest in just about everything and how she was always learning something new. The vivid colors she loved. Her fear of snakes and frogs. Her sense of humor. How she might not like an interest you had, but she would encourage you to pursue it and do whatever she could to help you. How she and my Mom would call each other during televised golf tournaments - just to talk about a putt one of the golfers took.

What else strikes me is how much influence she has had on my life. Between Aunt Carol and my Mom, I learned girls could do anything they wanted to. And Aunt Carol did have a way of giving one tasks that you wished she thought only boys could do. The two of them also taught me to value my independence. I also learned that with a little duct tape, there wasn't much you couldn't fix. At least temporarily.

One fall, I was living at Grosse Ile going to law school. Aunt Carol was also living there renovating the front basement. It was supposed to be a project that would take no longer than two weeks. But you know her, once she started something like that - it was going to be done right, no longer how long it look. And it took awhile. Grandmother was very nervous it wouldn't be done before they left for Hawaii. Finally, my Mom was ordered down one week to make sure it was finished that week.

For about a month though, Aunt Carol and I would meet in the dining room late in the evening. We would smoke cigarettes. And confide at how Grandfather and Grandmother were driving us crazy. We would conspire and joke and laugh. And look forward to the late afternoons when they went to their aquatic exercise class and we were alone in the house.

That's how I'll remember her, the woman who saved the teddy bear I still have and who made me laugh when Grandmother couldn't decide if it was proper for me to have boy study partners that the family had never met. I'll miss her. And her red purses with her pen collections.

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