This is the time of the year when a lot of kids start getting excited about Santa coming to town. When I was growing up, I looked forward to the jolly old elf's appearance, too, but not as much as when Aunt Helen would visit...or we would visit her. Most of my mom's brothers and sisters lived in Wisconsin or Missouri but Aunt Helen made her home in Connecticut. To a small-town cheesehead, that sounded like a pretty exotic and exciting place. And, it was...because of Aunt Helen.

Twice when I was growing up, we took a car-trip from Wisconsin to visit Aunt Helen and her family in, what was for us, The Far East. I always thought Aunt Helen was rich! You see, they had a pool in their backyard and that, for me, meant great wealth. The only people I knew with a pool back then were the Beverly Hillbillies. My brothers and I would go from car to pool in about five seconds flat upon arrival. It wasn't the pool, of course, that made the trips memorable. It was Aunt Helen.

She was always in a good mood. Not that her life hadn't been filled with challenges. Her husband, Uncle Bud, had fallen down a silo, landing feet first on the concrete floor. The doctors told them he'd probably never walk again, to which, Aunt Helen replied "Nonsense. Not only will he walk...we'll go dancing." It wasn't easy but Uncle Bud did walk...and dance...again. Of course, it took medicine and therapy and surgery but, I believe, the real reason he got back on his feet was Aunt Helen.

Aunt Helen and Uncle Bud came out our way every now and then, too. Now, our house, with four boys running around, was pretty busy but when the Connecticut contingent arrived everything went into overdrive. Once we ran into Madison...when Aunt Helen was around you never just went somewhere...you RAN. It was a shopping excursion. Something a boy of 12 would usually avoid like the plague. But, if Aunt Helen was going, so was I. While we were there Aunt Helen decided I needed a new suit. By the time we left, I was quite the fashion plate. Dark blue pants, light blue sportscoat with a minor pattern, blue tie, pink shirt and white shoes. Peacocks consulted their lawyers about copyright infringement. Yet, I thought I looked like one of The Rat Pack. Who needed Calvin Klein? I had Aunt Helen.

Whenever Aunt Helen was around there was fun, laughter and music. Whether it was a card game, a boat ride or just sitting around talking, she made it a memorable moment. I never saw her lose her temper or get annoyed over big or little things. She'd go anywhere and try anything. She made the lyrics to that old song Anywhere I Hang My Hat is Home absolutely true. She felt completely at ease from Las Vegas, where she visited me when I lived there a long time ago, to a downstairs bedroom at a cottage on Lake Wisconsin. She really was totally comfortable in her own skin and made everyone else feel that way, too. She was delighted to be, and we were blessed to have, Aunt Helen.

She passed away a couple days ago. Now, I have this picture in my head of a long line of people waiting to go through the Pearly Gates. About half-way down the line there's a lot of laughter, good talk and music. One of those waiting up front asks St. Peter "What's all the racket going on back there?" St. Peter looks down from his post, smiles, and says "Oh, that's just Aunt Helen."

Heaven will never be the same!