My Aunt Doris Bond, An Eulogy – And So Anyway
My Aunt Doris entered heaven’s gates today, December 10, 2023. In 15 days, she would have been 91. She raised three children – Alan, Jennifer and Curtis, was married to Glenn Bond for 51 years, was a teacher of preschool kids for four decades. A woman my mom (Beth Brown) not so secretly revered. And, for my mother to revere someone, well, let’s just say, a son takes note.
Aunt Doris was special and one of my favorite people. She was born on Christmas Day. A voracious reader, careful with her money, and comfortable with her own opinions. Like anyone else, she worked, she loved, and she cared for her family. I first got to know her by getting to know my cousins, especially spending some time with Jenny, her daughter.
Retiring from teaching preschool children most of her adult life, she stayed involved. She was active in the Redding Religious Society of Friends, at one time serving as the Clerk and was a passionate advocate of their many efforts at promoting peace and justice in the world. When I complained during the administration of George Bush II, that I was on the terrorist watch list, she conspiratorially revealed to me, that like me, she also was on the list. She smiled as she reminded me what President Bush had said. “You know, “If you aren’t with us, you are against us.” Quakers are just so radical! She didn’t mind.
She served on various boards, addressing children and multicultural issues in Redding, making sure access for children less privileged gained access to facilities where they could learn to think, learn to interact, and could one day become leaders of tomorrow. I remember being there for a reunion when one of the organizations was recognizing her efforts.
Aunt Doris was practical and often patient. In my third year, as a financial advisor, she reached out and asked me to begin managing her retirement account. I thought I had arrived! Her next statement became one I used for the next 27 years. “And So Anyway, Eric, if you screw up, just realize, I am moving in with you.” What motivation. You will never know how many people after hearing that story invested with me, thinking that benefit would be extended to them.
I helped organize our family reunions. Aunt Doris would send notes to express her appreciation that I cared about keeping such a diverse family together. See, in our family, we have warriors and activists, liberal democrats and republicans who are not moderate. Catholics, Baptists, Quakers, and Lutherans. Each has a special ability to annoy or tease another. Diving into debate requires a tad bit more wine or beer than many might think. But without these gatherings, it would have been much more difficult for Aunt Doris to maintain her connection with family. She communicated that clearly.
For over 20 years, Aunt Doris and I had regular 45-minute visits, keeping us both informed about the four families on my mother’s side. I began missing those calls shortly after she moved from Redding to Portland.
And So Anyway. My sister (Cindy Brown) may have been Aunt Doris’ “favorite”, I am happy to be a runner up. Frankly, how could I compete with a sister who is fluent in power tools and can fix anything put on a list? Fortunately, Aunt Doris enjoyed having favorites whenever she was visiting.
One call, she surprised me when she told me that she attended the San Francisco Gay Men’s Chorus when they visited Redding, CA. She was thrilled to be in attendance, in a sold-out venue. While sharing this event, she shared something even more impactful to me. At 77, she joined the local Redding, CA Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays. She, without a request from me, without me expressing a need or desire, she had joined. She was now my coolest aunt. So, while I lived in San Diego, I invited her, Jenny and Jenny to come visit. I got to take Aunt Doris in a limo to Disneyland. She told me it was the only time she rode in one.
She quietly stood as the matriarch in her home, her family and her community – and like a pixie (my mom’s description of Doris), found her way to make things happen in between distractions. Her idiosyncrasies were endured. We would laugh when she would interrupt or want to change the topic. Her “And, So Anyway” was something many of us heard repeatedly, even teasing her with it. Whether she left the wet spoon in the sugar, after stirring her tea, or buying the cheapest butter option, we laughed, and enjoyed any time spent with us. She always had a sandwich for guests, but we all learned that her favorite food was Mexican.
Sadly, over the last 5 years, dementia stole her away. The first time I encountered it, we were having a conversation where words were disappearing as she was about to speak words. It was a terrible moment. I cried when I realized she no longer had a book with her to read. The “pixie” part of Aunt Doris, that my mom described, I felt had been corrupted by iron, as any of those who are from the Faerie World would. How else could she for so many years speak child and English so well and now we were watching it disappear? Always having the right things in her purse to teach or entertain kids. Mary Poppins could not compete with her.
It was always wonderful to see her, to tease her, to see her smile, to sit and eat with her, listen to stories of family today and long ago, and share her concerns about the world. She had no problem with anyone teasing her. She would simply smile and make an exclamation. Though, when it got into her head to get up and go, it was at times a struggle to get her to change her mind. I never liked having to oppose her decisions. During a recent visit, she was determined to go for a walk. I disagreed. For 20 minutes, my mom closed her eyes while I diverted Aunt Doris from the doors as she circled between the kitchen, dining area and living room until she sat back down. I hugged Aunt Doris and was relieved when Jenny returned.
Today, I am simply relieved she is no longer in pain. I am thankful that my cousin, Jenny, will be able to rest after so many years of first-line caring.
Thank you, Aunt Doris, for sharing a life of loving, caring, and continued impact on myself, the extended family, and communities in California to Oregon and beyond who have benefited from your attention, teaching, and wonderful connection.
And So Anyway, What a light for decades. What an amazing mom and aunt. Your light will continue to shine while we remember how you made us feel loved, and how you allowed us to laugh. I am so grateful that you wanted to get to know me. You brought me tears of hope, smiles of joy, and at least one heart that can see a brighter future because of what you have done out of love.
And, I miss you, already.
Eric Brown Speaks Out 