Memories of a much loved Aunt

Aunty Myra was the epitome of a favourite aunt. She was cheerful, sweet, sometimes absent-minded, forgiving, but most of all, a lovely and loving person. I always looked forward to going to see Aunty Myra, knowing that I would catch up on all the family news, without any criticisms or complaints. She was wonderfully straight-forward, telling you what she thought, and then leaving you to take it or leave it. Best of all, perhaps, despite being very religious, Aunty Myra was no saint. She enjoyed a good laugh, she had a sharp sense of humour, a strong streak of nonsense and fun.

Having raised 4 children, sometimes in trying circumstances, she had developed a thick skin to protect her from life’s many knocks. Particularly in her younger days, she had also developed a quick temper and a loud voice designed to stop rowdy young boys in their tracks. Visits to Aunty Myra’s house were always events to be looked forward to, even if they were likely to be a bit chaotic.

My family, the Watkins bunch, always used to stop off in Bloemfontein on our way down to the coast. Somehow, Aunty Myra would find a place for all of us to sit and eat and sleep, in amongst babies and nappies and children and husbands. Sometimes I had more fun at the stop-over than on the holiday. It was generally my task to injure Kevin in some new and exciting way, falling off a bike, breaking a window, running through the veld. This tendency persisted even in later life, when Kevin, chaos and I always seemed to go together. Generally, Aunty Myra would berate Kevin, me and anyone close by for being so stupid, then fix up the bleeding knees or whatever, phone the neighbour to apologise, and have forgotten it all by dinner time.

Aunty Myra took a particular interest in the romantic affairs of the family, arranging several critical dates for matric dances and the like. She was convinced I was a “misogynist”, without ever realising that I knew what the word meant, but certain she could cure me. I will always remember her head popping out a door at my mom’s house when Linda and I appeared the morning after our wedding, to see if we were smiling or scowling.

Perhaps my favourite story about Aunty Myra comes from her visit to France on a Lourdes pilgrimage with my mom and Aunty Enid. On Aunty Myra’s recommendation the 3 sisters went to see the newly released movie “Emmanuelle” (a soft porn movie) in Paris, convinced that it had to be a religious movie with a name like that. She never tired of telling us of the awful scenes she was exposed to in watching this movie, but could never convincingly explain why she sat through it right to the end. I think she liked to get her money’s worth.

Aunty Myra lived a full life, the oldest of the Carson family when she died, mother of the most children (as far as I know), and much loved by all. I remember her with much love, and will miss her greatly.