THERE IS NO FEBRUARY 29TH THIS YEAR

There is no February 29th this year. So had Auntie Alice been alive she would have counted this as one of her bonus years when she skipped a birthday. Her youthful, energetic and often trail-blazing life was in fact lived as one not calendar-bound, but dream-driven.

Auntie was the oldest of 7 children, born of immigrant parents and proud of her Lebanese/Syrian heritage. In the war years, when her brothers were answering the call to duty, she decided to open a bus depot so that local soldiers could more conveniently travel from their Lawrence, MA hometown to ports of embarkation such as Boston and New York. Since she had spent her teens and 20s "lugging BX cable" in the family business (see my post "Family Legacy"
http://samiwolf.blogspot.com/2011/12/family-legacy.html), she was neither a stranger to hard work nor a believer in the fragility of the feminine persuasion. Therefore, she set out her commitment to the war effort, framed by a 7-day-a-week, 5am-11pm schedule so the bus depot could be open to meet all military arrivals and departures. Ever the customer-centric entrepreneur, she provided greeting cards as well as a soda fountain and advertised both. In business school textbook  fashion, she engaged two competing greeting card companies and leveraged their competition to garner co-op advertising funds and attention to quality card stock, encouraging frequent visits by company reps vying for better shelf space or premium card visibility. 

Yet lest I paint a picture of a store-bound life of toil and sacrifice, let me expand my story to the post-war years and my personal recollections of Auntie Alice. She was a study in innovative lifestyle, gregariousness, and generosity. She owned a city house and a beach house, both havens for family gatherings. Before her parents' deaths, she cared for them at home. She was always available for financial and emotional support to her brothers and sisters, and later to their families. Her sister Marie, youngest of the 7 siblings, stayed after all the others had passed away or gone off and married, and lived with her throughout her life. In her driveway was the first DeSoto with a push button transmission. On her long fingers was colorful nail polish, adorning a beautiful diamond ring of her own design. After the war, the bus depot's mission accomplished, she opened a series of dress shops offering one-of-a-kind fashions for local events ("Honey, if you're buying an outfit for the Chamber dinner, that one is out... Someone else is wearing it and I never want you to "bump into yourself!") Translating her customer-centric drive to the world of ladies' fashion, she offered free gift wrap (always carrying a variety of high-end foil paper and rich, colorful bows), and free parking. She trained sales staff to be discreet when selling, wrapping and delivering two Christmas gifts in two distinctly different sizes to one man (gaining the confidence and loyalty of many grateful men less interested in shopping than in discretion). Although her store's (or in some years, stores') hours of operation were Monday through Saturday including two evenings, no family gathering was complete without her and Auntie Marie. Generous on every occasion, they arrived and took their places as loving family fixtures interested in every aspect of the family lives of their 5 siblings and many cousins and their families.

The end of Auntie's life was not the end of her generation, as Auntie Marie and my Dad were left to watch over her last days. But hers was the end of an era. In their innocence and simplicity, those of the World War II generation held high the standards of family and work ethic, and fueled themselves with a love of country and a strong faith in God. For them, personal sacrifice was a way of life, and through it they left us a legacy of wealth not measurable in dollars and cents.

Happy Skipped Birthday, Auntie Alice. You would have been 108 this year (or 27, to be more exact). Be assured that your memory is eternal.