My aunts and uncles and grandparents seemed ageless. I never thought of them as “old,” or as “getting old.” When my cousin Margy Norton sent me a photo of her grandmother – my Aunt Ellen – she said, “Gramie Norton looked like this for as long as I knew her.”
Ellen Hall Norton in front of the cottage, photo courtesy of Margy Norton Campion
Ellen and her younger brother, my grandfather Ellsworth Hall, shared a sense of humor – Ellsworth’s quiet and twinkly, Ellen’s brash and lively – that must have made life on the farm entertaining.
Ellen, Ellsworth, Lydia Jane, and William E. Hall, around 1900
In the black and white photo Margy sent, Aunt Ellen stands in front of her cottage on Long Island Sound wearing what look like clown shoes. The Hall women were tormented by bunions and corns and coped with them in practical ways. Ellen wore her special slippers. My mother’s cousins Melissa and Gertrude cut holes in their white Keds to accommodate sore feet. They laughed about their creative footwear.
“Keds,” Carol Crump Bryner, pen and ink, 2014
Ellen dressed without vanity, wearing comfortable cotton dresses all summer. In an iconic photo, she sits on the lawn in front of the cottage with her favorite dog Count. This is how I always think of her – surrounded by blue and white and smiling an impish smile.
Ellen Norton and her dog Count
Despite her life’s tragedies – her only daughter Jane died at fourteen, her husband Henry in 1938 leaving her a widow for twenty-six years – she held onto a teasing and fun-loving disposition. Her two sons John and Austin provided her with spirited daughters-in-law and loving grandchildren. At her cottage and in her little house in Wallingford she cooked on coal-burning stoves. Summer life at the cottage was simple, but surprisingly elegant.
“Sleeping Porch Window,” Carol Crump Bryner, oil on linen, 1990
She made her famous ginger cookies in the ovens of the massive old stoves and stored them in the same black tin my cousins still use. She greeted me in the kitchen by sticking out her false teeth and asking if I wanted some sour doughnuts. She chided me when I wore lipstick, but I could coax her into playing endless games of Parcheesi and checkers.
Even when I was young and sitting in the living room on the farm listening to the older women talk about their lives, I was learning something from them. Their lessons have become more relevant to me as I grow older. They embodied the adage, “Pain is inevitable – suffering is optional.” The women who paved my way certainly had their share of pain. But they cut holes in their shoes, they played Parcheesi, they gathered in a room together on a Sunday afternoon, they sat on the sea wall in front of a summer cottage, and they made ginger cookies to please the next generation. To all of us they bequeathed their love of family and their enduring sense of place.
“Corner of the Porch,” Carol Crump Bryner, oil on canvas
On Friday: Outbuildings #3 – The Turkey Pen
What a wonderful story about a great family character. I have only a very vague memory of visiting her at the cottage and receiving those fabulous, tasty ginger cookies warm from the oven. My parents both remember her liveliness, great sense of humor, and strong opinions. Thanks for sharing.
Thanks, Mike. Yes, she did have very strong opinions, but they were often tempered by humor.
This was so beautifully written about my husbands dear grandmother who I have not yet met. Though I am most looking forward to meeting Jesus Christ in Heaven, there are also people like Ellen Norton who would be a joy to hug. Thank you for posting your paintings of the cottage. I remember when you came there and took photographs in order to do the paintings. Now, I finally get to see them. My husbands wonderful sense of humor must have partly come from her. Although not in the bloodline except through marriage, I too have bunions and sore feet. Maybe I will cut up some sneakers.
Jeff definitely has Ellen’s sense of humor, but he is actually much funnier. I remember that day at the cottage too, and that was when I took the photos that I used for that painting with the bedspread. You led me around the house carrying Laura in your arms while I took pictures. Lovely memories. Good luck with the sneakers!
My father was a close friend of “Auntie Ellen” (as he called her) and Margy Norton was (and is) one of my closest friends. When we were young, we would often burst into the little house on Ivy Street and help ourselves to what seemed to be an endless supply of ginger cookies. I can still taste them to this day and the hot cross buns around Easter time. Often we would convince Auntie Ellen to remove her teeth and say the alphabet, which we thought was hilarious. She was so funny and such a good sport! I have the best memories of her. I’ve enjoyed every entry of your blog, but had to respond, even though a bit late, to this one.
How very lovely to hear from you! Aunt Ellen was always a good sport. We loved her, and she made us laugh all the time. And her ginger cookies were so good and so plentiful. She also used to make a loaf cake for Thanksgiving that I’d love to have a piece of now that I’m in my “mature” years. We didn’t like it when we were little because it had raisins and other fruity things in it. Thanks for reading the blog and for this very nice comment!
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