Symons Says: 'Green grow the grasses, ho ...'
A summer call from Auntie Skattin means awnings, screens and a cedar chest in the garret, where Tommy Symons finds the hospital bill for his own birth.
As printed in the Celtic Mirror, June 1998
'Tis that time of the year when all seems right with the world. The dreary days of winter are gone, the soaking rains of spring have dried up, and the whole world has turned me favorite color ... green.
As much as I dread starting up the mower or sharpening the hedge clippers, there is still nothing quite as nice as the smell of fresh-cut grass or the sight of newly clipped hedges. Now the reason I bring this up is that I got a call from Auntie Skattin the other night: "Thomas, if you can find it in your heart to stop by my house this week, your poor old Aunt needs a few t'ings done. It'll only take a few minutes away from whatever you are doing, it's just that I can't be doing it myself."
"Okay, Auntie, I'm on me way."
I knock on the door, wipe me feet on the mat as thorough as if I were entering an operating room, and call, "Auntie Skattin, it's me, your nephew Tommy. Are you home?"
"Of course I'm home, didn't I just get off the telly with you? And your given name is Thomas, and tell them people at the newspaper that's your given name."
No sense getting into a discussion on this. "O-kee-doke, I'll tell them, Auntie."
Chores and memories ...
The chore she has chosen has been a rite of summer since I was 12 years old. Her house has these huge canvas awnings that get rolled up every fall, and must be unrolled to keep the house cooler come hot weather. There must be a dozen of them on three floors, and sometimes the ropes must be changed, but it is also a welcome task, because it means it's summer. "Start up in the garret, and while you are up there, put the screens in those windows, and that cedar chest by the steps goes back in the corner."
Ahh, the cedar chest. A family heirloom, it has been passed down from some Aunt in the past, and is currently at home in the attic (oops, garret) of me Aunt. It holds cherished mementos from the whole bunch of us: cousins, aunts, uncles, the whole clan. Since I have to move it, I might as well take a peek and see if there's anyt'ing about me in there. Much to my surprise, more than I imagined! Among the bits of papers that to others are just that, I found my report cards from me first four years in parochial school (I guess the ones from public school didn't make the cut). I had forgotten how smart I used to be, why with all those A's and B's, and even a 95 in conduct! (I must make a copy of the one that bears an A in spelling to show our proofreader.)
The one that really hit home, though, found among birthday cards, newspaper clippings and bits of ribbon, was an invoice from the A. C. Milliken Hospital, Pottsville, Pa., dated Sept. 6, 1951. It was a bill totaling $95.05 for a six-day stay for Mrs. Ruth Symons, me Ma, for hospital care and delivery of one baby boy, Thomas Daniel. I managed to convince Auntie Skattin to part with this particular bit of the past, and it now hangs over me desk by a t'umbtack, waiting an appropriate frame. One discouraging note, however, is the fact that there was a balance of $24.00 due, and I haven't found another receipt. If I am still not paid for, that might prove to be the reason I'm always late!
As I finished with me chores, later than I had originally anticipated, Auntie Skattin had her usual cup of tay and soda biscuits waiting for me. It must have been a special treat this time, 'cuz they even had raisins in them. "Now don't get all teary eye on me, Thomas, only old ladies are supposed to do that when they look in that trunk. Ahh, it must be the Irish in you, though," she said as she hugged me. "And take this, you can always use it." And there in me hand, just like the last 30-some summers, a brand new, crisp five-dollar bill.
Auntie Skattin - mystery woman or no?
I am faced with a bit of a problem that maybe you, the reader, can help me with. I have received numerous letters and requests in the past year or so as to what "Auntie Skattin" looks like, and if a picture or drawing could be printed. As some of you might know, she is a mythical figure, a composite of my mother, grandmother, aunts and neighbors I have encountered throughout my life. With all this modern technology that is available, I guess I could scan photos into a computer and come up with a reasonable likeness that would represent the qualities of all those people, but should I? Those of you familiar with Wilson, the next-door neighbor of Tim Allen on the sitcom "Home Improvement," have never seen his whole face. It lends a mystique of sorts to his character. And Charles Schulz, creator of the "Peanuts" comic strip, has never drawn the little red-haired girl. I kinda t'ink along those lines on this. You may have your own idea of what Auntie Skattin looks like, maybe somebody you can relate to, and if a picture or drawing is published, it may shatter your interpretation. But I will leave it up to you, the readers of an Scathan. Drop us a line and let us know. T'anks.
'Nuff of me ramblin's for this month, the grass is high, I can't see me young lad on the other side of the hedge, and I t'ink the telly is ringing. Until next, God bless and safe home.
About that unseen face
Tommy Symons wrote "Symons Says" for this magazine in its first run, and he came back when the Celtic Mirror relaunched in March 2003. Auntie Skattin, by his own account above, was never one woman. She was a mother, a grandmother, several aunts and a street's worth of neighbours folded into one voice, which is why she sounds so familiar to anyone raised in a house with a garret and a good front room.
His two examples of the face kept hidden turned out to have short shelf lives. Charles Schulz had in fact just let the Little Red-Haired Girl into "Peanuts" a little: on 25 May 1998, a few weeks before this column ran, she appeared in silhouette, dancing with Snoopy. That remained her only appearance in the strip. She was given a full design, a voice and a name, Heather Wold, only in "The Peanuts Movie" of 2015. The name nodded to Donna Mae Wold, the former colleague at Art Instruction, Inc. who turned down Schulz's proposal in 1950 and is usually named as the character's inspiration. She died on 8 August 2016.
Wilson held out longer. Earl Hindman's Wilson spent most of the run of "Home Improvement," which began on 17 September 1991, behind the backyard fence or a mask, and the audience saw his whole face only in the final episode, which aired on 25 May 1999.
As for the Pottsville bill: Pottsville sits in Schuylkill County, Pennsylvania, and a hospital charge of $95.05 for six days and a delivery is the kind of figure that now makes readers laugh out loud. We have no record that the $24 balance was ever settled. We also have no record of a portrait of Auntie Skattin ever being printed, which suggests the readers voted the way Schulz would have.
Questions readers ask
Was the Little Red-Haired Girl ever shown in Peanuts?
Charles Schulz never drew her face in the strip. Her only appearance came on 25 May 1998, as a silhouette dancing with Snoopy. She was shown in full for the first time in "The Peanuts Movie" (2015), with a design based on that silhouette and the name Heather Wold, voiced by Francesca Capaldi. Schulz's former co-worker Donna Mae Wold inspired the character.
Did Home Improvement ever show Wilson's face?
Wilson W. Wilson Jr., played by Earl Hindman, was almost always seen from the nose or eyes up behind the backyard fence, or with his face blocked by masks and props. The only exception was the final episode of "Home Improvement," which ABC aired on 25 May 1999 after a run that began on 17 September 1991.
Who is Auntie Skattin in Symons Says?
Auntie Skattin is the recurring aunt in Tommy Symons's "Symons Says" column for the Celtic Mirror (An Scáthán). In June 1998 Symons explained she was a composite of his mother, grandmother, aunts and neighbours rather than a single real person, and asked readers whether a likeness of her should ever be printed.
Who created Peanuts?
Peanuts was created by the cartoonist Charles M. Schulz. One of its longest-running mysteries was Charlie Brown's crush, the Little Red-Haired Girl, whom Schulz kept off the page for decades. He announced his retirement in 1999. The character's real-life model, Donna Mae Wold, had dated Schulz for about three years before declining his proposal in 1950.
