My favorite place as a child, was at Aunt Marion's. We called her,"Mernie," and she rented the upstairs apartment in our house. Merni loved children. She always seemed to know just what to say when you had had an argument with a friend, or failed to be chosen for the leading role in the Christmas play.

"Anybody can play that part," she'd say, and wave her hand in the air. "What really takes talent is working backstage; drawing scenery or helping players change costumes."

I felt accepted when I was with Merni. A skinned knee would send me limping up the stairs for a long, warm hug or a glass of chocolate milk. She always had time for me, regardless of what she was doing.

She knew how to play one song on the piano. The name of it was, The Bouncing Ball, and every grandchild, niece and nephew can still hum it today.

Merni loved to play tricks on my Dad and would include us in on the plot. Once, when my parents were out for the evening, she enlisted our help in nailing their front and back doors shut. My Dad had to borrow our neighbor's tools to finally pry the doors open. Of course we thought it a wonderful trick.

Merni had a cigarette dangling from her lips most of the time. It didn't matter to us. It seemed to add to her uniqueness. Once, when stirring a full pot of spaghetti sauce, a long ash from her cigarette dropped into the mixture. She looked over at me and shrugged, then kept on stirring. The sauce tasted delicious in spite of her "extra ingredient."

One of Merni's favorite places was the beach. She would load a large picnic basket full of goodies, and off we'd go for the day. While she sunbathed, we spent the afternoon splashing and diving in the waves. By summer's end, we all were as brown as berries. It didn't matter if Merni was at home or anywhere else, she represented my favorite place to be.

Sunday night was outdoor game night. All the neighborr kids majically appeared right after supper. Merni and Dad were the referee's in case of disputes. The evening would end around the fire pit as we roasted marshmellows and sang camp songs.

When we were scheduled to be inoculated for polio, I ran upstairs to Merni, sobbing my heart out. I was certain the shot would kill me. When her efforts to calm me down, failed, she agreed to get a shot herself. Hand in hand we entered the doctor's office. Merni rolled up her sleeve and motioned me to do the same. I still screamed, but just having her support and later, an ice-cream cone, made it all bearable.

How fortunate I was as a child to have a favorite place to go to. Even though that place was actually a person, to me, it was the same thing.

Learn more about this author, Carol Gustke.
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