Our father had a few old aunts (and an uncle or two to go along with them) and we spent some time with them for no reason at all.
Aunt Lise (married to Uncle Jimmy, the scourge of the family, whom I ADORED) provided some interesting events while we were young. Dresses were to be worn for dinner - no one leaves the table until excused - no running, behave like a lady ALWAYS...
They lived in Sea Girt, NJ and when we visited, we often made our way to the Atlantic Ocean or other watery places near-by (I'm pretty certain one place was a park on the Shark River off Route 35) - and a visit to these places would not be complete without a chance to feed the waterfowl. Now, NORMAL people might have some stale bread... or maybe some old frozen stuff that is put away with the intention of feeding birds, ducks, swans, etc., but Aunt Lise had to go one better... one bigger... one more absurd and illogical than what you might envision.
Aunt Lise would contact the local bakery a few days before our arrival and let them know that she would like to have the "day old" stuff for the above mentioned reason. I don't know if she paid for it (my guess would be, she did) but it was CRAZY! I can still picture it. A very tall, very thick, brown paper bag filled to the brim and folded and sealed across the top. I was probably 4 or 5 years old and the darn bag was as tall as me!
IMHO, there isn't a bird or a duck or a FLOCK of birds or ducks on Earth that could possibly eat that much bread... SO I HELPED.
Within the magical brown bag of "old" bakery bread, there were ALWAYS some cinnamon buns! White, creamy icing, chewy raisins, spicy cinnamon, buttery goodness ... I mean.. COME ON... THIS IS TOO GOOD FOR BIRDS!!! So I would take a bun out of the bag and "go over there to feed THOSE ducks" meaning - hide behind a bush and EAT IT!
But one fine day as we were feeding the swans and I was "going over there to feed THOSE ducks" a few swans spotted me with the bun. They decided this delicacy WAS for them... and they started to follow me. I was not going to give up this tasty treat... so I started running. SO DID THEY. This made me run even faster, looking back at the approaching swans- BOOM. I tripped over a root and went DOWN. The swans, hissing and flapping grabbing for the bun... I was being TERRORIZED by these long necked marauders! I was petrified and screaming... The swans won. I was rescued and TO THIS DAY, although beautiful and graceful, a chill runs down my spine when I see swans.
Did I mention that I live on the water now? EVERY DAY we have a family of SEVEN swimming by our dock. << shivers>> Did you feel it?
Merry Christmas from my seven swans a swimming this AM!
Posted by Nancy Oltmer Wieme on Friday, December 25, 2015