My wife’s family is originally from the land of volcanoes, a small tropical Central American country named El Salvador. Last week, her maternal aunt passed away peacefully at Asbury House in Hattiesburg, where she received excellent care.
Tia, as we called her, was a sweet, diminutive lady who immigrated to the U.S. decades ago. She never married, had no children, and in her later years, moved from New Orleans to McComb where she worked in the doctor’s office of her brother-in law, my wife’s father. Tia and her sister, my wife’s mother, were close but had very different personalities. Tia was unconventional and told colorful stories in Spanish and English that inevitably made us smile and laugh. In her memory, I will share a few stories about Tia.
Christmas was a big event in my wife’s family. For many years, Tia lived with my wife’s parents. Devout Catholics, the three of them annually invited family and friends for Christmas dinner at their Pike County home. As custom, my in-laws greeted each arriving guest with big warm hugs. Tia was a night owl, who slept well past noon and needed hours after awakening to make herself presentable to guests. As a result, she often made her grand appearance well after all the guests arrived, entering with the slow walk of a royal princess. She hugged and kissed each visitor one by one, gripped their arms, and earnestly told a random story out of context or nonsensical. All one could do was listen, smile, and nod back at her, later pondering what just happened. But, she had a soft grace about her as she flitted among guests in her cheerful Christmas themed sweaters.
Kathia’s mother customarily prepared Salvadoran turkey and gravy and other native delights with amazing aromas. Tia wanted to contribute, so she was assigned the annual task to prepare one side dish. Without fail, she created unique and original mishmashes of foods, though sometimes odd-looking and once foul smelling from the addition of marine mollusks known as cuttlefish. Usually, we were served a salad concoction, different each time, and never based on a recipe. The family quietly and nervously watched with uncertainty as she assembled the dishes, never knowing if her leafy inventions hit or grossly missed the tasty mark. We always ate what she made. If her Christmas green offering was a disaster, we softly praised her culinary work while forcing a few swallows.
Around the ornate dinner table, family engaged in lively discussions, often interrupted by Tia’s contribution of an unrelated and puzzling comment, like the time she espoused views on her belief in extraterrestrials. We all looked at one another perplexed when Tia routinely went “conversation rogue,” and one of us steered back on topic with Tia slowly chewing her beyond compare romaine fare.
After Christmas dinners, Tia slipped away to feed scraps to a bilingual and split personality dog. The neighbor owned the dog named Dixie, but that Southern belle wandered next door by night and transformed into her new persona - Cutie, the Latin beauty, responding to commands in Spanish with ease.
Tia always presented each family member with a Christmas gift, something she selected without input from anyone. Her gifts often were pricey, but not necessarily on point, like the time she bought my son a bright pink backpack for college. After exchanging presents, everyone remained gathered in the great room for fellowship and occasional dancing. Kathia’s mom once stood shocked and aghast, but also amused, as Tia used a towel as a shawl to swish to and fro in flamenco style movements.
We loved Tia, eccentricities and all. She lived a simple life, was kind, well-mannered on a professional level, and did no harm to anyone. Every family deserves someone like her, an amazing storyteller and master chef of Christmas salad extraordinaire.
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Clark Hicks is a lawyer who lives in Hattiesburg. His email is clark@hicksattorneys.com.
