NBB, Queen of the Universe, or how our eldest sister saved us from ourselves (c) Nita Walker Boles

I.

Long ago, in a far-off land lived a family, a third family made from two others, in which older children were banished by cruel circumstances but not forgotten by either their families or by the Goodness of God, who makes all things to turn for good if we will just allow it. As children of that third family, we knew that among our older siblings, in the Hinterlands of Texas, lived an older Sister named Nina, who was, by all rights, Queen of the Universe.

Mary remembered her well, from the time before she went away. When she heard that Nina was getting married, she asked Mother if she could be the Flower Girl. Within minutes, Nina was on the phone, saying she and Donald had just gotten married. Mary was disappointed, but I had no idea what they were talking about. In fact, I was so into picking flowers on the way home from school that it was about the best I could do to find my way home. I was too little to really remember much about my oldest sister before I saw her again, but it seemed that when they did get together, she and our Mother were talking the entire time they were together. 

 

And any time she was expected to visit, there was a cleaning of the house like no other time. Linens were pulled from the shelf, re-washed, organized, and replaced. Everything was removed from the kitchen cabinets, the cabinets washed out, and everything cleaned again and replaced. The usual Saturday cleaning was re-done five times over, and the refrigerator cleaned and the freezer defrosted. 

 

You would think the Queen was coming. And she was! So while we were little kids going to school, she was a grown-up with a complete life that included being Hollywood Pretty while excelling at everything she did, having a Dashingly Handsome Husband, and maintaining a Stylish Home. Even their dog was named after a fairy-tale character, Wolf.

On her visits to our home, she periodically grabbed one of the younger of us and straightened a collar or skirt too far a-kilter for her to tolerate while continuing her grown-up conversation with our Mother. She seemed insistent that anything we do be done right, so a look of satisfaction or a little smile with a nod of approval from her was a great reward.

I remember one potato salad under production in our kitchen in which my job was to peel the skins from the boiled potatoes. I seemed to have trouble getting the skins to slip off, and after a while she quietly took them from me, still conversing with Mother, and magically slipped a manicured nail beneath the brown skins, zipping them off within moments. She could make ordinary tasks look amazing when she performed them with such ease!

One Christmas she came with bags and boxes we eyed with excitement, and on Christmas Eve, eager to get in on the still-proceeding conversation with Mother, I walked into the back bedroom to find them wrapping toys. I spied the Monopoly game.

“Wow! Who gets the Monopoly game?!!” I exclaimed.

 

Nina's hands became the wings of a White Hen, her clucking voice and waving arms shewing me from the room and blocking me from getting a view of the other treasures askew about the room. I sulked back to rearrange the ornaments on the tree, muttering that Mary Beth would probably get the Monopoly game anyway. But on Christmas morning, it was MINE! Nina's little smile of satisfaction was brief, but I caught it when I said enthusiastically, “Thank you!”

II.

When it came to clothing and hair, there was no higher authority (except, on occasion, our Father) than Nina. When there was a doubt about what to wear or whether something fit right, it was whether or not it required her tugging, straightening, arranging, or pulling that determined its' fitness. She was as confident as our Mother in what she wore herself.

Conversely, when she visited one year, her hair long but piled into a sophisticated 1960's bubble on top of her head I heard Daddy musing to Mother about her hair: “Whatever that beauty shop is using on her hair is stripping the color from it!” Like all parents who think their children are perfect just as they are, he hated to see anything change about her natural beauty.

As for us, we were like a bed of unruly weeds with the uncontrollable habit of growing, and requiring a complete renewal of wardrobe every fall. When times were lean we were sometimes sent to her house for “outfitting” which might include both trips to the best department stores or finest dry goods places for purchase of the latest patterns and materials. Our school year was certain to go better when Nina had contributed to dressing us.

Although my closet was amply stocked with fine sewing done by our mother, I stood by with envy to watch the front yard photos of my older sister's fall wardrobe being made the year she entered Centennial High School. Mary came home after a visit to Nina's with a new wardrobe selected and sewn in excellent taste.

One summer when Six Flags had opened we went to visit Nina, then at her new home in Arlington. Upon inspection of our cut-offs and tee shirts, Mary and I were taken to Titches where Nina bought us cute little cotton-knit short shorts and tops by Aileen in colors that reminded me of sherbet.

Robert remembers being dressed in Bermuda shorts, a blazer, and a red cap and having the distinct feeling that he might look like a “Sissy” but also knowing it was futile when Nina had spoken to protest. Mary and I knew we looked good, so any noises Robbie made around us were going to be muffled because we revered the judgment of the Queen of the Universe. David must have had a shirt and shorts or pants that passed inspection, because he only remembers that it was hot when we went to Six Flags.

Before the start of my Junior year of High School I was lucky enough to spend a week with Nina. Among the prizes I went home with were two (Titches or Cox's) store-bought mini-dresses that our father would never have allowed me to wear. When I appeared in the the living room wearing one on the first day of school, Daddy said flatly, “You are not wearing that.” I looked straight at him and said, “Nina got it for me.” He blinked first. My poker face and bravado bought me the use of the dress until my sweaty friend borrowed it and I could never get her B.O. out of it again. The other of the two was worn again and again until it was too pilled to be nice enough.

III.

High school was a not a finishing point. It was well-rehearsed to us by our mother that while our father had finished high school, she had sorrowed all her life that the school bus had stopped coming near enough to her father's farm for her to complete her final year of public school. It was a foregone conclusion that we would not only finish high school, but make good enough grades to qualify for some sort of scholarship help to deliver us a college education.

Nina was the shining example for us, returning to school at TCU to complete her Bachelors' degree in Nursing. As teenagers we were acquainted with her college buddies, all nice girls, smart and savvy. They were, for us, a reference point that we could make for the kinds of friends one could choose for oneself.

 

She later proved to us that you aren't finished till you feel finished by completing her Master's Degree in Nursing at TWU. She taught, lead in her field, and finished her career working for the State of Texas certifying  and  investigating hospitals and home health agencies among other health care providers. 

Watching the few years it took for her to complete her degree and then advance in a stellar career made us certain this was what we could and should expect to do for ourselves. Less than a college education would forever have been unacceptable to us, and we never felt finished with our education until we finished our education. So the four of us all went to college, some finishing with Bachelor's degrees and others with Masters, while some with lesser degrees but achieving success in our fields.

Some of us have served our country in the military. Some have owned and managed their own successful corporations. Some have worked in high level management positions, and some have addressed Congress and have spoken to Admirals, and international authorities as advocates for life-saving measures.

IV.

As a young girl, I watched as my older sister and her adoring husband bantered and played, always showing genuine and open affection for one another. They were the model of true love for one another. Good humor and tandem effort toward their individual and mutual goals showed us what was possible in a great marriage. If Nina was the Queen of the Universe, then Donald, the King, was the unassuming example of loyalty and hard work.

Good books, music, the arts, history, all a continuation of the home we were raised in were woven into the lives of our older sister and her husband. The love and acknowledgment of God was an undertone but never a lecturing point in their conduct. Their examples of grace as friends to others and as ever-present family members for us gave us the reference point we have for belonging to and helping others to belong. Nina often spoke about the value of having and “putting down roots.” How different our lives would have been without them to show us the way.

V.

It is now many years since the first visit to Six Flags over Texas. Our sister, Nina, still reigns Queen. The home that she and Kind King Donald have made has been the gathering place for our family now for three generations. 

Donald serves up grilled hamburgers and sage advice seasoned by wry observations with generosity to his nieces and nephews. He dons an apron to bake in the winter, cookies and breads, cakes and other delicacies to give to friends and families as they share the blessings life has brought them.

 

Nina's hands are never still. She embroiders and sews the fabric of our lives and the lives of our children and grandchildren. No baby is born without something made beautifully for the day of their blessing. Heirloom stitchery is tucked away in tissues for generations to come.

With the coming and going of so many people, two dogs quiver for attention, afraid the parade of guests might take away the affection normally lavished on them when the King and Queen would be theirs alone to enjoy.

When we go from the Castle on Stagecoach Drive, we leave happily to return to our own homes, satisfied that we have at last met the Queen's approval, glad that our children and their children have had an audience and enjoyed a banquet of goodness within those walls.

Epilogue

Once upon a time there were two different families that became a third. Perhaps it was because among the children of the first two, there was at least one young Queen who chose to make a world for herself in which the children of the third family could also grow strong and happy, that the story ends Happily Ever After.