Want Some Shampoo With That Rinse?

Dear Boo and Bubble,

I’ve always believed that the definition of “family” is flexible enough to include close friends you make along life’s journey.  Captain and I have been very fortunate at every stage of our marriage to meet people who quite comfortably transitioned from friend to family – and, although there are many, none more so than Roger and Willa Jones.

We moved to 126 Brittany Road in Gaffney, SC, when your mom was just over a year old.  Roger and Willa lived across the street.  They were both large of stature with even bigger hearts and it didn’t take long for them to totally embrace us.  Not a day went by that we were either in their home or they in ours, sharing meals or playing cards or watching college football games or Monday Night Football. 

When your Aunt Bee was born, Willa sat in the waiting room with Captain and Mamaw Mary.  She brought a sleeve of dimes from the bank so that Captain could call everybody to announce the good news.  Always thoughtful, always inclusive – we loved Roger and Willa.

And, they loved your mom and Aunt Bee as their own.  It was very common for the back doorbell to ring and Roger would be standing there.

“Where are the girls?”

They would hear him and come running.

“C’mon.  We’re going out and about.  You girls get your shoes on and come with us.”

One such day, when your mom was maybe eight and Aunt Bee four, Roger and Willa stopped by.  They invited the girls to go run errands and have dinner at McDonald’s.  With much excitement, MK and Aunt Bee piled into the Jones’ Cadillac and they drove away.

Among the errands was a trip to the gas station and use of the attached automatic carwash.  Roger filled the Cadillac up with gas and proceeded into the carwash until a stop sign lit up, indicating that he put the car in park.  The arms of the carwash began waving across, over and behind the car, spraying water first and then dropping globs of wax onto the surface.

The girls sat in the back seat, noses pressed against each window, fascinated with the process.  As the arms made one last sweep across the car to give it a good rinse, Roger very carefully and clandestinely pressed down the control button for Aunt Bee’s window.  The window lowered so slowly, it was imperceptible to her.  Before she knew it, her hair and forehead were soaking wet.  She pulled back from the window, sputtering and spewing.

“Roger!” your mom yelled.  “I think you have a leak in your car!”

The immediate chuckling that erupted from the front seat alerted the girls to the prank.  Looking at her drenched little sister, your mom burst out laughing.

Not so Aunt Bee.  She was furious and no amount of apology or cajoling could dissuade her from the madness.  The Happy Meal at McDonald’s barely made a dent.  It took months of Roger whisking Bee off for special treats to finally get back in her good graces.

Along the way, I will share with you many more stories about Roger and Willa because they have become a part of our folklore.  Neither one is still with us.  Willa has been gone five years and Roger just left us only last month.  They had a profoundly positive effect on us, especially your mom and Aunt Bee - which proves the point that family is not only gained through genetics but also through the serendipitous interventions of life.  Don’t ever forget that.