A lifetime ago for some, and growing up in Denver, school was part of the experience. For two of those school years, the trek to and from was long. Both ways, of course. I had to walk 2 miles to and from school. Unlike many school kids parents, it was all flat ground, in both directions. It still didn't make it any better in the dead of winter. Denver received its share of snowfall and back then, there were few "snow days." It really had to be a blizzard out before they would call off school, or so it seemed. Today, they call off school if the weatherman just predicts snow. "Oh no! There must be 2 inches of snow on the street. How will we ever make it to the store to buy emergency food?" Good grief, Charlie Brown! Grow a pair of snowballs. Ma never learned to drive so, that was out of the question and I fell through the school bus cracks of being "not far enough to let me ride the school bus." Though, I did have had an advantage as it turns out. My dad's older sister, Ethel, lived on Knox Ct. just about half way home from school. And, I think she had super powers. Aunt Ethel always had warm dry socks and gloves waiting for me just in case I needed them. The radiator was always nice and toasty, too. I could dry my boots and coat in mere minutes. Besides, it would take longer than that for Auntie to tell me all about her day and that she knew I would be stopping to warm up and dry out. What was her super power? Apple pie, of course! Oh, I can smell it right now just thinking about walking from the gate down the sidewalk to the door. It smelled so, so good and the aroma just filled my lungs as I walked up to the door. "Mmmmmm...," I would press my lips together and not even realize I made that sound. I would knock and the customary wait of 2 minutes before the door opened was necessary "as not to seem too anxious." With a big smile, it was "Hi Auntie!" as I stepped inside and kissed her cheek. "Oh, your lips are cold," she would always say. Warm, dry socks and gloves were always on the coffee table and I would remove my boots at the door and follow her into the kitchen and take a seat at the table. "Oh, it always smells so good at your house Aunt Ethel. It's always so nice and toasty warm, too," I would add. A little steam still rose from the pie as she placed it on the table in front of me. "I know this will help warm you up," she would always say. "Oh, you shouldn't have!" I would always say with a chuckle. She always cut the pie in fourths, not sixths. You could count on a piece of her pie to be huge! She would turn to the stove just as the tea kettle started to whistle, "Can't forget the hot chocolate," she'd say as she filled the cup with steaming hot liquid. Beside a spoonful of honey, there was always something a little extra in her hot chocolate and it had a little kick to it. I didn't care, it was good. There was that little bottle of brandy she'd try to hide behind the napkin holder as she set the hot chocolate in front of me. "Just for medicinal use," she would add. I never saw her ever take a drink. She would always try to get me to eat another piece of that divine pie but, I never did. Still, she would wrap a piece of pie in wax paper and put it in a paper lunch bag, slip it in my coat pocket and say, "Now be sure to give this to your mom when you get home." "I will Auntie, I will." With a tummy full of warm apple pie, her special hot chocolate and warm, dry socks and gloves on, I was ready for the last half of the trip. Oh, I always made sure her porch and sidewalk was shoveled free of snow. Sometimes, she made cherry pie. Another super power. She passed to the other shore in January, 1979. She was 83. I'll always remember those two wonderful years I lived so close to Aunt Ethel. I miss and love you, Auntie.

(Photo Abt. 1925-Aunt Dorothy -left, Grandfather James and Aunt Ethel-right).