Walnut Grove: Goodbye Aunt Betty, A Rose in Heaven

On September 11, 2015, Cleo Irene Lockhart Shoemaker passed away after a long battle with dementia. Most people knew Cleo as "Betty," a nickname she chose in her young adult life, and to me, she was "Aunt Betty." Cleo was born on June 2, 1927 in Drill, VA on the Lockhart family farm on “Big A” Mountain. She was the 4^th child (2^nd girl) born to my grandparents, Thomas Jefferson and Cynthia Rhea Lockhart. Cleo was a lovely child with dark eyes and glossy hair, and most of her siblings say she was the favorite child of their father, who called her his “little kewpie doll” and allowed her to sit on his lap at dinner while the other children were "relegated" to hard wooden benches.

Aunt Betty as a school girl "on the mountain" in Drill, VA

Cleo was a teenager when the family moved to Ross Campground, Tennessee. Not long afterwards, she took a job at the Kingsport Press, where she met her future husband, Lawrence Shoemaker. Lawrence had just returned from WWII where he had been a prisoner in a German camp.

Aunt Betty and Uncle Lawrence as a young couple

Cleo, by now known as Betty, and Lawrence married on July 4, 1946 and settled in Kingsport. Both continued to work at the Press. They never had children and had only one pet—a groundhog named Sugar. They were nearly inseparable, spending (I believe) every night of their 69-year marriage together. They enjoyed traveling, especially fishing trips to the coast where they would bring back bags of shrimp that my mother says were the most delicious she ever tasted.

Aunt Betty with Sugar, the groundhog

Aunt Betty and Uncle Lawrence with their catch

Aunt Betty with a particularly good catch

By the time I came along, Aunt Betty and Uncle Lawrence had moved into a brick ranch home with an expansive yard where they tended a large and impressive garden. I remember spending many languid summer afternoons musing over their vegetables and flowers—all perfectly tended, not a weed or worm hole in sight. And in June and September, the fragrance of Aunt Betty's roses filled the air with heady perfume. Aunt Betty’s roses were in a class of their own. She grew mostly hybrid teas, which require tedious care, and flanked the sunniest sides of her house with them. After her death, I found her "rose journal" where she kept a list of all the roses she had grown over the years and notes about each of them. “Queen Elizabeth,” “Mister Lincoln,” “Veteran’s Honor, and “Hot Cocoa” were her clear favorites. It was fitting that Aunt Betty died in a month that her roses were blooming--and the woman who bought the house brought a bouquet of them to the funeral.

Aunt Betty and Uncle Lawrence's garden

Me, my step-dad Bobby, and Aunt Betty beside a particularly impressive zucchini plant

Aunt Betty showing off her roses

More of Aunt Betty's roses

Aunt Betty was also an excellent cook, and her sweet potato casserole and cranberry salad were legendary at Christmas Eve dinner. Also legendary was her beloved turquoise oven in which she baked many of these delicious dishes. The oven, which she had installed when the house was built in the 1960's, was retained through many kitchen remodels and became a trademark of sorts for Aunt Betty. No doubt it would bring a high price on the "retro" market today. (And whomever becomes the lucky owner will likely inherit a bit of Aunt Betty's spirit as well. She'll remind them to put marshmallows on the sweet potato casserole.)

Perhaps what was most impressive to me about Aunt Betty was her immaculate style: Her hair was always perfectly set, her clothes sharply pressed, and she typically wore matching jewelry. And this wasn't because she was afraid of hard work. On the contrary, she played in the dirt as a child and gardened as an adult. Yet, she was always neat as a pin; even the beads of sweat on her face after she hoed corn or harvested beans seemed manicured. This particular talent of Aunt Betty continues to inspire and allude me, as I typically look like I've just slopped the hogs after I've just slopped the hogs--not like I'm ready to take a shopping trip to Macy's! Maybe one day I will learn the subtle art of staying kempt in farm clothes.

So, to Aunt Betty with her grace and green thumb: May you bloom in Heaven as lovely and lovingly as you did here on Earth.