my aunt catherine was one of the last of the last generation of middle class women who, if they could not find a job or a husband, lived with and were supported by their families their whole lives.
she could never hold a job because she just was not very bright. she had a hard time remembering anything or understanding instructions, and always talked, and seemed to think, slowly. earlier generations would probably have described her as “simple” although the use of the term was mostly obsolete in her lifetime.
she never had much to say, almost never initiated conversations, and usually answered, “yes”, “thank you”, “i suppose so,” or “that’s nice,” when spoken to. she watched a lot of television.
her father, my grandfather, died when catherine was forty-two years old. my grandmother and catherine continued to live on grandfather’s pension until grandmother died two years later.
when grandmother died, her house was sold for a few thousand dollars and the money given to my aunt janet towards the support of catherine, who went to live with janet and her three teenaged children. janet had been divorced for many years and worked as a waitress and sometime hostess at a family restaurant.
catherine was given a small space to live in janet’s finished basement.
it was a few months after moving in with janet and her children that catherine began speakng of herself as an artist.
she would say things like “artists like myself do such and such…” or “artists like myself are the soul of the world”, or “things seem different when you are an artist like me.”
she was not, so far as anyone could see, making or attempting to make any type of art. when she talked of being an artist, her listeners would nod, and nobody questioned her as to the nature of her art.
the only opinion on the subject was expressed by janet’s son adam, who said, “she probably got the idea from watching oprah or ellen.”
janet’s daughter terry replied, “but would she get the idea from oprah or ellen that she was an artist herself?”
bob just shrugged, and no one else had any thoughts on the subject.
when catherine died, no art of hers of any kind was found in the basement, or anywhere in the house.
janet’s three children moved away from home.
catherine is never spoken of by her surviving relatives, except occasionally by my mom and janet, who agree that it was a “blessing” that she died before she became more of a burden.
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