Twins

Long long ago when I was single and my aging Uncle Bill decided to downsize and move in with my Aunt Davina, he gifted me two blue porcelain lamps with roses painted on the rounded stems and white shades. He also gave me a blue/brown oriental rug. The rug lasted only a decade, but forty years later the lamps have traveled with me to all my residences, and through all my life transitions. These elegant lamps always seemed out of place with my more down-to-earth décor.

The lamp shades eventually had to be replaced and then those new shades were torn by our rambunctious cats. The one lamp that graced my side living room table was twice toppled and semi-cracked by our infamously mischievous cat, Blackberry. When my in-home preschool concluded, when the daughter and her friends grew up, we slowly started redoing our home to suit our empty nest life. I kept the lamps even though they didn't blend with our new red couch, sage chair and red/sage rugs. But finally, I had to admit I wanted to let go of the past, the unconscious dictum of my biological family tree and to embrace my new present. So these lamps have been recycled to a new home.

To my surprise, shortly before my lamp giveaway, the memories of my aunt and especially my uncle began to resurface. Memories may be triggered by objects but these memories are never lost when the objects disappear. As a child, what was fascinating to me about my aunt and uncle was the fact that they were twins. Technically both were the first born; my later and last born mother was considered the spoiled baby. My Aunt Davina used to tell me she was the oldest and she certainly acted like a bossy, know-it-all first born. She, who never worked outside the home, was the one who labeled my working mother spoiled. My Uncle Bill did seem like a middle child in that his flamboyant, exuberant manner was determinedly overlooked by other family members.

From my years as a PFLAG mother with a beloved community of Gay friends, I would guess, and assume, really, that my uncle was Gay. How I wish he were alive today, for me to embrace him once again. There was never any doubt that I loved and revered my uncle, especially since our dramatic, musical,(he played the organ by heart) party hosting styles are similar. Close to my grandmother, somewhat at odds with my grandfather, my uncle never married and became the focus of snide, insinuating, remarks by my aunt's masculine, boisterous speaking husband, Paul, my other uncle.

My Uncle Bill, like his furnishings, was an elegant man. Elegant in my definition means he loved to decorate his home with beautiful items and dress up in well-made suits, colorful ties and jaunty hats. He would always have a theme to his house décor and the two themes I most remember are the home where he had nothing but antiques and his Asian home in San Francisco. This Asian-themed home had a buzzer at the top of the stairs, which automatically opened the front door. Climbing the stairs, I was led into a wonderland of Japanese dolls and Chinese pottery, silk curtains and plush couches, hanging decorative fans and colorful Geisha robes. It was a child's dream of beauty come true. In this antique-filled home, my uncle had a small organ which if coaxed he would sit down and play requested songs by heart.

Whereas my uncle smiled and laughed often, my Aunt Davina was serious and “responsible.” She and Uncle Paul were the ones who bought my grandparents' apartment complex after my grandmother died. They moved into what had once been my grandparents' residence to be near my grandfather, and independent Grandpy moved to the small back studio apartment. After Grandpy suffered a stroke, Aunt Davina cared for him until her near nervous breakdown forced her to put him in a nursing home. It was also my aunt who made it through her husband's losing fight with cancer. After Uncle Paul's death, I discovered an aunt who more openly shared her past. Her and Uncle Paul's wild side was brought out in her stories about their motorcycle exploits. In their younger years, they rode their motorcycle all over the Western Coast. Somehow I could never picture my Aunt Davina on the back of a motorcycle. Later she confessed, as did my mother, that they both got pregnant before being married. Scandalous? As a child raised with 50s virgin values, I was shocked! Yet these not so virgin confessions made these sisters more human.

Both my aunt and uncle never worried about money, as my mother did. We were extremely poor after my father lost his California Water and Power job and I remember my grandparents bringing weekly bags of groceries to our house. Later my father became a self-employed gardener, which happened to be my grandfather's trade. My grandparents never totally approved of my mother's marriage but the working man occupation brought my grandfather and father closer together. My father, a stubborn, somewhat shy man, avoided our visits to Uncle Bill or to Aunt Davina. He no doubt knew Uncle Bill was Gay, and he disliked Uncle Paul.

After Grandpy's death, and after Uncle Paul's passage, Aunt Davina sold the apartment dwellings and she and Uncle Bill bought a house together in Glendale near where my aunt and Uncle Paul had originally resided. Visits to my aunt and uncle continued to be magical, for Uncle Bill had nearly free rein in the interior decorating department. For Christmas, the entire living room shone in tinsel and glitter and porcelain figurines. Trees big and small were everywhere. Later my uncle and aunt decided to leave Glendale behind and to retire up in the northern California redwoods. This home was earthier and simpler. Though grown up, the twin factor continued to fascinate me. Amazing, I thought, that as twins Aunt Davina and Uncle Bill ended up living together. As in childhood, they had their fights, disagreements, and getting on each others' nerves, and from the outside they appeared to have opposite temperaments. But I could sense symbiotic support and there was a deeper love between them than between these twins and my third-wheel mother.

My aunt died first of a heart attack. In her will she generously provided for my uncle and named her daughters to look after him. Uncle Bill was utterly lost during his few years living alone without my aunt, even though he had spent his entire adult life living alone.

Twins...two embryos in one womb...nine months of growing limps bumping/cuddling each other...a childhood, an adulthood of sharing the same birth date and the same physical features. It is said each human seeks his or her twin. Are we looking for the universe to reflect/acknowledge ourselves back to us? Are we wishing for someone who completely understands who we are? Who “gets” us? And if this person appears to be our opposite, is it not possible he or she might actually be the twin we seek?

© 2012