In our visits to New Orleans to see grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, stopping at Mawmaw's and Pawpaw's was a must. Aunt June's and Uncle Russell's was a close second. The image I retain of those childhood visits is of a sort of storm within the Hendrick house, a storm of a large number of noisy happy children (us, our Hendrick cousins, and often many other cousins who visited at the same time) in the hallways, in the bedrooms, even hiding in the closets, and especially swirling around a kitchen, at the calm center of which was Aunt June. I'm sure she was often exhausted. She was always kind and generous.
In later life my family and I were privileged to share some calmer visits. When she and Uncle Russell along with Aunt Margie and Uncle Steve were doing a cross-country road trip, they passed through New York to Mystic Seaport in Connecticut. Knowing I lived near New York City at the time, they invited me to join them there. We had a great time. We used to join Aunt June and Uncle Russell along with the other aunts and uncles (and Dad) during their autumn visit to the Villa Tavia chalet in the Smokies, a place with natural beauty on the outside and the beauty of loving family on the inside. I thought it was a little taste of Heaven to wake up to coffee with whatever other relative was also waking up to coffee at the same time. Aunt June and my youngest daughter, Therese, then barely more than a toddler, really hit it off. Therese would wander off to Aunt June's room, sit on her bed, and visit. Therese fell in love with a small pillow that Aunt June then generously gave her.
Her kindness and generosity touched us and two younger generations and left memories that will last as long as we do.