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Josephine Esther Guzzetta (aka Aunt Jo) April 15, 1910 - October 27, 2005
Writing a eulogy about someone who has been intertwined in your life through every age and on a day-to-day basis, and who has 95 years worth of living, is a mammoth task. How do you do this person justice as well as all who have known her?
How do you describe the life of Aunt Jo? How do you summarize a life that spans 4, or is it 5, generations, and all it has encompassed? I can only speak from my limited perspective and experience, but I suspect the details won't matter; it is the essence of Aunt Jo that is constant to all of us.
Aunt Jo is a family legend. No one in this family even knows of a life without Aunt Jo in it. She just always was - as far as we all are concerned. Aunt Jo is a family staple - as sure a thing as her coffee in the morning or her hot peppers in the afternoon - on anything - on pasta, in soup, in between peanut butter sandwiches…. In a word, Aunt Jo is unique.
Speaking of food, I can't describe Aunt Jo without mentioning some of her famous kitchen concoctions - her cabbage and dough, her abundantly filled poppyseed bread, pizzelles with enough pure extract to get a notable alcohol level rating, her cabbage rolls that always had pink meat inside, homemade from scratch and real whipping cream strawberry shortcake for special occasion birthdays, and my all-time favorite - Holiday Soup, not Wedding Soup, Holiday Soup with those little square egg & cheese croutons sprinkled with "spaghetti cheese", not Romano cheese, not Parmesan cheese, spaghetti cheese.
Aunt Jo never learned to drive and from that I think she developed an endearing affection for "the bus". She used to love to take "the bus" into town, accompanied by any niece of any given generation. She liked talking to the bus driver, she liked getting on and off, she liked shopping - whether it was downtown at Murphy's or at the Hub in Steubenville or on the hill at K-Mart. There was something about "the bus" that appealed to Aunt Jo. Maybe it was a sense of freedom to her, a sense of personal mobility. Maybe it was the contact with people. Maybe she just liked to ride, to see the world, to go somewhere other than where she was. Do any of us really know what Aunt Jo desired? In all my years of living with Aunt Jo and growing up watching her and trying to figure her out, it all seems to boil down to one thing - she desired to be loved and appreciated. Even when it was simply by her dogs Timmy or DoDo or any of our many cats whom she visited.
Aunt Jo had somewhat of a comedic quality that was hard to define. She reserved some observations, not suitable for repeating here, for only us kids - but they were comments that shocked us into the realization that Aunt Jo was neither innocent nor naïve. She had her own language - her "deesh" towel which was always flung over her shoulder; her "supp" hose; and the offer to guests that always evoked a questioning look, "Do you want 'my peoples' bread' or Merkin bread?" (translation, Italian bread or American bread?)
As I became older, Aunt Jo became an anomaly. She was a contradiction within herself. She was all-giving, and still, she was needy. She was as hard as nails when she was determined to get something, but if met with a simple scolding word, she turned into a withdrawn mouse, which, by the way, the sight of always evoked the most amusing screaming reaction from her. She was bold in a moment and with the wisp of the wind, she could become pathetic and fragile. Living with Aunt Jo, you came to realize both her power and her vulnerability. It was Aunt Jo's world, and we were just in it. There was no arguing with her. You might get the last word, but she got her way. She exercised a subtle control; a meek authority. Her final display of this quality was perfectly exemplified in her death. She was determined not to go to a nursing home. If she couldn't be cared for at home to die, she wasn't going to die in a nursing home. And with her final proof of her control over her own life, she allowed herself her own death in the hours just before her scheduled transit. Just when you thought you had her settled, she waved her magic spatula, and she upset the pots and pans and the whole menu to her own design.
But what I've come to realize as being the most amazing thing about Aunt Jo, probably the most puzzling aspect and the thing that links us all together through her, was that she belonged to no one, yet she belonged to everyone.
I remember at Aunt Jo's 80th birthday party, when everyone had a chance to speak, it was Kathy who perfectly described the essence of Aunt Jo when she said - "I always thought I was Aunt Jo's favorite, but I see that everyone believes they are Aunt Jo's favorite." Whomever Aunt Jo was with, whomever she was talking to - she made that person feel like they were the most important person there is. And to her, at that moment, they were.
How do you describe the life of Aunt Jo? How do you summarize a life that spans 4, or is it 5, generations, and all it has encompassed? I would describe it using an old adage - it is a life well lived, a life much loved, a life often laughed… and now, it has become a life that will be incredibly missed by 4, or is it 5 generations now?
In her way of comforting a skinned knee or a broken bone, or the sting of a divorce, or the loss of a loved one, I think I can hear how she'd comfort all "her children" and even her baby brother today…
Oh child, things are gonna get easier
Oh child, things'll be brighter
Someday we'll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun
Someday, when your head is much lighter
Oh child, things are gonna get easier
Oh child, things'll be brighter.