Contributing writer
My Aunt Gertie is over 90 years old. For well over 60 of those years, she lived in Ramona. She always said it was one of God’s lovely accidents that brought her to this town and our family.
A newly graduated elementary school teacher, she was preparing for her first job when the school board called and said, “Oops, we have a problem with the budget and we won’t need you this year.”
That deficit brought a blessing to our town and our family. Gertie heard through her aunt, who lived in Ramona, that the Ramona Rural High School might need a music teacher. Gertie applied, moved in with her relatives, met Hank, my mother’s brother, and the rest is history.
On the road trip inspired by my sister’s 60th birthday in January, we went to see Aunt Gertie who is now living in a care facility near her son, Gary, in Greeley, Colo.
As we chatted, an aide came down the hall, distributing an afternoon snack.
“Would you like strawberry yogurt or vanilla ice cream, Mrs. Schubert?” she asked.
Aunt Gertie hesitated. Her three nieces listened for her choice. We knew what Aunt Gertie really wanted if she could have her favorite snack. She would have an orange sherbet push-em, fresh from the frozen foods deliveryman.
I’m not sure which Aunt Gertie liked best — orange push-ems or the deliveryman. Probably the latter. She once told me that her idea of heaven was owning a big motor home so she and Uncle Hank could travel anywhere they wanted, with the deliveryman as the driver.
There would probably be a freezer full of frozen food products on board. Aunt Gertie would be sitting in the front seat — the director’s chair — chatting with her chauffeur while Uncle Hank sat on the motor home couch reading Caper’s Weekly. Pure bliss!
My aunt loved the deliveryman. He was part of the family. She looked forward to his visits, to the good food he brought—especially the orange push-ems —and to news from the outside world. She had pictures of his children on the shelf of her china cupboard right along with her own grandchildren.
After we got back home from our Colorado jaunt, I was getting gas in Tampa and who should be there but the deliveryman.
“Do you ever make third party deliveries?” I asked. “Do they have products in Colorado?”
He assured me they did and handed me a catalog with a telephone number. When I called, they told me that if I wanted a real deliveryman to deliver Aunt Gertie’s push-ems for Valentine’s Day, that I’d have to call a warehouse number in Colorado with limited hours. If that didn’t work, I would have to settle for UPS to do the delivery. We finally settled on UPS who assured me that “Yes, indeed, we’ll deliver them in their own little ice chest with dry ice on Thursday.”
My sister and I settled back to enjoy Aunt Gertie’s surprise. This was the lady who handed out orange push-ems to the kids in town with great abandon. Ramona’s children all knew that her freezer was well stocked. Now she would receive this little packet of joy — her favorite treat.
Thursday came and went.
“No orange push-ems,” my cousin Gary said.
While we awaited confirmation of their arrival, my sister, Jess, and I talked about what we might want someday as an unexpected surprise when we’re 90.
“See’s Candy,” Jess said, “The brand is important and make sure they are milk chocolate nuts and chews.”
“I’d take See’s vanilla fudge or molasses chips,” I said. “Or licorice and I mean black licorice. It’s hard to find the good stuff.”
It takes some effort to know what a loved one wants and I discovered it takes a lot of effort, sometimes, to get it there.
After a month of waiting and an hour on the phone with all the 800 numbers of the companies concerned, good old UPS tracked down the man who’d signed for Aunt Gertie’s orange sherbet push-ems in that huge facility where she lives. Her ice cream had been delivered, just not to Gertie.
Evidently, they’d been stuck in a freezer upon arrival and forgotten. (Luckily they hadn’t been eaten.)
A social worker called Saturday.
“I want you to know that your Aunt Gertie finally got her push-ems and she’s had several!”
It’s just another day in the country and we’re all smiling — especially Aunt Gertie with a little orange stain on her lips.