About twice a year my Aunt Norcie and Uncle Ernie would visit from Pennsylvania. I counted down the days until they arrived. They were much younger than my grandparents, and their energy always seemed to add a bit of life to 27 Autumn Drive. My Uncle Ernie was tall, his body straight, probably from the [] years he had spent in the United States Air Force. His bald head and expressionless face almost intimidated me. Sure, now he was even tempered and nice, but I wondered how mean-looking he may have looked in his service days. Like Norcie, he was always in a good mood, free from the clutches of work life. My Aunt Norcie was the daughter of my Great Aunt Annie, Grandma's older sister, who died long before I was born. She was a short, heavy-set woman with short hair and a contagious smile. She wore glasses and laughed often. My Aunt Norcie and Uncle Ernie were the picturesque retired couple. They were living their life to the fullest.
In the summer, my Uncle Ernie would come for one day and drop off Norcie, and make the three hour trip back home, where he couldn't miss his important commitments: a golf league during the week and the occasional tournament. A week later he would return to pick up Aunt Norcie and stay for one, sometimes two days before driving back to Pennslyvania.
When they finally arrived, the rituals would begin: dinners at restaurants with my Aunt Steffie, special trips to the casino, shopping for the women. Pop pop and Uncle Ernie would rock back and forth in the loving room chairs and watch the biggest football and baseball games together and talk about current events in local politics and around the world.
Part of those rituals was a sleepover or two, depending on how many of their visiting days fell on weekends. Grandma, Aunt Norcie and I would play rummy until all hours of the night, long after Pop Pop had gone up to bed. We would sit in the dimmed dining room and play, filling up small notebooks with the adding and sometimes subtracting of scores. I was always disappointed when I saw my aunt's eyelids slowly dropping over her eyes, her chin resting in her hand. Bedtime was near, and I was never ready for it.
In the summer, my Uncle Ernie would come for one day and drop off Norcie, and make the three hour trip back home, where he couldn't miss his important commitments: a golf league during the week and the occasional tournament. A week later he would return to pick up Aunt Norcie and stay for one, sometimes two days before driving back to Pennslyvania.
When they finally arrived, the rituals would begin: dinners at restaurants with my Aunt Steffie, special trips to the casino, shopping for the women. Pop pop and Uncle Ernie would rock back and forth in the loving room chairs and watch the biggest football and baseball games together and talk about current events in local politics and around the world.
Part of those rituals was a sleepover or two, depending on how many of their visiting days fell on weekends. Grandma, Aunt Norcie and I would play rummy until all hours of the night, long after Pop Pop had gone up to bed. We would sit in the dimmed dining room and play, filling up small notebooks with the adding and sometimes subtracting of scores. I was always disappointed when I saw my aunt's eyelids slowly dropping over her eyes, her chin resting in her hand. Bedtime was near, and I was never ready for it.
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