Aunt Fran

My mother is the youngest of 4 sisters. My Aunt Jackie was the nurse, my Aunt Angie was the gardener, my mother was the fashionista, and my Aunt Fran was the decorator—the artistic one.

My Aunt Fran could transform lead into gold with a little paint and some wallpaper. She used conventional materials unconventionally. She painted bathroom ceramic tile and wallpapered over ugly paneling. She routinely canvased the Salvation army for treasures—and then refinished them. Her house was warm and eclectic and always in flux—every time I would visit her she would lead me by the hand and say Come see what I have done now!

When I bought the house I currently live in, it was in good shape structurally. It was also immaculately clean—but worn. Some rooms—like the bathrooms and kitchen needed “band-aids”—quick aesthetic fixes until I had the money to replace them.

The kitchen was stuck in 1972. The cabinets were dark walnut, the countertops and full backsplash were pale yellow-ish faux marble Formica.  The flooring was gold and tan linoleum. The wall paper was new—a country mini-print off of the rack from Pergament in shades of blue and white.

I couldn’t stand it---it was too dreary to work in day after day. I needed to do something.

So I bought some more wallpaper from Pergament and primed the Formica backsplash and had the wallpaper pasted on it to hide the faux marble. And my father painted all the cabinets a soft shade of country blue. We updated the knobs. We replaced the stainless steel sink with one made of porcelain and changed the plumbing fixtures. A new sheet of white tiled-patterned linoleum was laid right on top of the worn gold flooring. And the piece de resistance was the material I chose to camouflage the countertops—peel and stick 12 x12 straight edge floor tiles that looked like granite laid on top and on the edge of the counter.

In toto it looked fresh and updated. It would do nicely until the kitchen was gutted and remodeled. Much time, but little equity was invested.

And when Aunt Frances came to visit the new house for the first time I took her by the hand and said Come see what I have done.

And all four sisters (God bless them) are still alive and well. Aunt Jackie, the oldest at age 88, still nurses friends and family. Aunt Angie still putters around the yard. My mother remains a fashionista. And Aunt Frances is still painting and refreshing her house.

My cousin Betty refers to the Aunts as the fab four. It is an accurate term—and fabulous they truly are.