One family story that I’ve often heard told is that of my aunt Mary and her visit to her best friend’s "funeral."

Aunt Mary is really not more than ten years older than me because her brother (my father) was the eldest of a large family. Though her eyesight was deteriorating rather rapidly, she insisted she could manage without glasses. She is a rather sweet spinster lady, quite talkative and excitable and rather fond of her evening glass of wine and her game of bridge with friends. One of her bosom buddies, her cousin Emily Rodgers, had moved away from our neighborhood a few years ago, so apart from an occasional phone call or letter, both women rather lost touch of each other.

I don’t know how exactly, but one day Aunt Mary received information that Emily had passed away. Aunt Mary made up her mind that she must visit Emily’s family immediately and she persuaded one of her nephews, Rob, to take her there. As they drove in through the gates of Emily’s home, Aunt Mary couldn’t stop the tears flowing down her face and according to Rob, she dashed out of the car almost before he had parked it and banged the front door in a hysterical frenzy.

It was opened by one of Emily’s sons, David, and Aunt Mary immediately grabbed his hands and cried, “Oh my dear boy, do be brave! I came as soon as I heard – so so shocking and sudden… and she was only two years older than me! Oh I wish I had been more in touch with her in her last days!” as she barged into the rather dark living room.

Before David had time to make sense of this, Aunt Mary had prostrated herself on a box in the living room and started crying copiously, her body shaken by convulsive sobs.

“What are you doing Aunt Mary?” asked a puzzled David.

“I’m grieving over the coffin of your poor lost mother… oh Emily I cannot believe you are gone!” gasped out Aunt Mary.

“Well, that 'coffin' you are grieving over,” remarked David dryly, “is actually our TV set and as for my mother, I believe that is her coming down the staircase right now.”

Well, as it turned out, as Mark Twain would have put it, the news of Emily’s death had been greatly exaggerated. She had only been recovering from a rather bad cold and to this day, I don’t know whether Aunt Mary’s predominant emotion at the sight of her alive and well was embarrassment or relief!

With her regular flair for melodrama and her poor eyesight, she had inadvertently contributed to that fund of funny stories which are told and retold at family gatherings (with the usual embellishments and exaggerations) until they pass into the stuff of legend. Well, at least all that teasing finally prompted her to wear glasses!