Aunt Carole on the Loose

Aunt Carole was always a mystery. Her life away from the Marco Island family was not well known, but she was family after all, and for better or worse, bloodlines are hard to break. 

Aunt Carole grew up in Michigan with her many siblings, grandparents, and cousins. Holiday traditions were always big on the list of family activities, but when the quirky aunt from Detroit drank too much eggnog, threw up on the Christmas tree, and then knocked it over, and broke grandmother’s heirloom ornaments, Aunt Carole and her secret life became the topic of whispered conversations. 

Other years at Christmastime presented other obstacles for Aunt Carole. One year she hopped into a Santa Claus suit, drove to Miami, and robbed a bank. She went before a judge with a very good lawyer - who then became her boyfriend - and amazingly to everyone, the queen of antics got off without going to jail. The attorney declared that the bags of stolen money with the exploding dye packswere something Aunt Carole found on the way home from Christmas shopping and the Santa suit robbery had nothing to do with the elegant fashionista from Michigan. 

Normally, Aunt Carole was on the ski slopes after the first of the year, but because of probation and travel restrictions placed upon her by the aforementioned Florida judge, the aunt with blood thicker than water was legally bound to stay in Collier County until spring. 

Despite Aunt Carole’s history with grandmother, she was wildly popular with the younger family members, especially the teenagers. When it became obvious that the quirky aunt was staying for the upcoming winter season the youngsters went wild with enthusiasm. Everyone in the family knew that Aunt Carole really did rob the bank and the money was going to be for Christmas, and everyone - even Grandmother in the big estatewhere Aunt Carole was staying - was interested to see what would happen next. 

During the first week in January, a strong cold front began to assault the islands, and Aunt Carole became frustrated with the Florida winter weather. The beach was a sandstorm, she declared, and the water was too rough and cold for swimming, so dining out and shopping trips became her favorite alternatives. 

With a few of the college kids off from school, Grandmother’s classic Mercedes was soon crowded with everyone who could fit in the big sedan. Aunt Carole was a control freak, and when she was riding in any car but a taxi, she was driving. 

The first clue of danger came as Aunt Carole rolled through an intersection with a stop sign when other cars were traveling in different directions. Both streams of traffic stood on the brakes to allow the big Mercedes to slip through the road rage, and after every horn began blaring in protest, Aunt Carole howled with laughter as she turned to examine the expressions of terror on her young passenger’s faces. 

“What the matter, kids?” The Detroit driver asked as she pressed hard on the accelerator. “Don’t you believe those cars have brakes? I do, and I believe those other drivers know how to use them.” 

After merging with a steady stream of traffic with the kids in shock, the big Mercedes raced through a yellow light at a four-way intersection and struck terror into a couple on bicycles. The bicycles were high-tech; the couple were wearing all the latest safety gear in dayglow colors, but when Aunt Carole and her captive crew blew by the cyclists who were halfway across the street, outrage, anger, and snowbirds of a different kind were flying everywhere. 

As Aunt Carole drove, her eyes were searching for opportunities. The kids were white-knuckled, with their hands holding and pushing against every handle and airbag surface in the car. Before a restaurant with a live entertainment sign became a blur in the speeding scenery, grandmother’s big sedan braked hard and pulled into a cross-street intersection. The winter season traffic was heavy and non-stop in both directions and as Aunt Carole waited impatiently to cross the street and enter the restaurant parking lot, the back half of the Mercedes with a clutch of terrified passengers was sticking out in the oncoming traffic. 

Once again, the horns of outrage began barring, more birds that had nothing to do with snow began flying, and after the traffic parted, the car parked, and the nerve-wrecked relatives of the wild woman from Detroit went inside. While the wary college kids ate burgers and fish sandwiches, Aunt Carole drank about eight margaritas and began to dance by herself in front of the little bandstand. 

When the restaurant manager tried to reason and then plead with the wildly gyrating Aunt Carole and explain that the dance floor was not big enough for a full floorshow, she grabbed the little man, pushed him into a corner, and began kissing him and smearing his face with red lipstick. The police arrived shortly afterward, and as Aunt Carole tossed grandmother’s car keys to one of her nieces, she walked out of the restaurant like royalty with a bodyguard on either side.  

At the end of the big day, Grandmother held court in the living room of her big estate. All the family was present except for Aunt Carole and her new friends in the Marco Police Department. 

“Aunt Carole is family,” Grandmother explained. “With every family everywhere, there is an Aunt Carole. As unorthodox as that person's behavior might be they are still family. We have to forgive and love our family for whatever life may toss our way, but it is very important to understand that if you do not know who the Aunt Carole in your family is - it might be you!” 

Tom Williams is a Marco Islander and the author of two books: “Lost and Found” and “Surrounded by Thunder - the Story of Darrell Loan and the Rocket Men.” Both books are available on Kindle and Nook.