The Circle of the Sun

Aunt Amy Bridget Vander Zanden Twadell
Born into this world December 2, 1953
Born into Eternity October 7th, 2008

There was a song that my godmother Aunt Amy would sing to me when I was little. She would sit with her legs crossed on the ground and I would sit in her lap. "Put your arms around me like the circle of the sun, you know I love you baby when my easy ridin's done..." I didn't really understand what the lyrics meant then, but liked the tune a lot and loved hearing her sing it as she hugged me and rocked me back and forth. When I was a kid I thought she made it up herself. Everyone in the family thought of it as "Amy's song."

A child of a very large Catholic family, Amy Vander Zanden was raised in a strict but very loving household. Speaking with a giddy cheerfulness when recounting childhood stories, she told of the seven children using an assembly line after dinner to clear, wash, dry, and put away all the dirtied dishes. If you'd ever seen my grandmother cook you would understand the challenge that would have awaited them. The table would have looked as if it were set for a State dinner at the White House; the kitchen would have looked like Hiroshima after the bomb. The seven kids celebrated when their assembly line technique helped them achieve their all-time best record of seven minutes. My Aunt Amy laughed when she told stories of playing loud music with her siblings and holding rolled up paper between their lips when their parents were away to arouse the suspicion and ire of the nosey old lady across the street. She rolled her eyes when telling about her fancy sister buying expensive shoes and paying her little brother (who wore the same size at the time) to break them in for her very sensitive feet.

My Aunt Amy didn't tell many stories of her adolescent and teenaged years. There were whispers of a cousin's sexual abuse and my aunt's subsequent troubled times. She went to college in the early seventies and fully embraced the age of drugs, artists, and rock and roll. My mom described her during those years as soft-spoken, kind, and "a little unsure of herself." She met a long haired, warmhearted lover of art and music and fell in love. Shortly after my Aunt became engaged, my grandfather was diagnosed with cancer and was given a very short time left to live. The family mobilized and put together the most charming, heartfelt wedding in two weeks time. Wearing a simple, vintage garden dress and adorned with a crown of flowers, my Aunt Amy married Kenny Twadell in a simple church ceremony and a reception at home among a very small circle of friends and family. For my Aunt Amy, this wedding was absolutely perfect. My Uncle Kenny and she moved to a farm in Darlington, Wisconsin shortly after. My aunt talked about that house as her favorite place of residence, a place of peace and simplicity. Eventually they moved to Chicago and my aunt became a social worker, helping children from the city's south side and surrounding suburbs cope with lives broken by abuse and neglect. Never having had children of her own, she poured her mothering instinct into loving her nieces and nephews and caring for the troubled children who sat in her office each day. My aunt became a straight-talking, strong woman while working as a therapist. She excelled in this role and helped dozens of children overcome their own troubled times, but the sadness and brokenness of these children's lives was a heavy burden. She battled alcoholism much of her adult life. I remember asking her once when she was braiding my hair why her hands always shook so much. It wasn't until I was in college that she finally started on the path to sobriety. With the help of AA, she got better and helped dozens of others on the path to sobriety. She made deep, soulful friendships with her AA friends. She began to radiate a confidence and peace like never before. Embracing her artistic and spiritual side in this new life, my Aunt Amy started making gorgeous scarves and shawls on her loom with her now steady hands. Many friends and family are blessed to have a few of Aunt Amy's creations.

My favorite memories with my aunt were at Point Comfort, a cozy little cottage which sat right on the water about twenty minutes away from the town of Green Bay. It was there that I would sit in her lap and avoid the tip of her lit cigarette while watching the sky explode into shades of orange, purple, and red as the sun plunged into the water's horizon. I know she was as happy here as she was as a child or on the farm in Darlington. There, all troubles would disappear and the calm waters and golden sun would hold her in a constant state of peace. Out on the beach in front of the cottage I would happily sit in her embrace as she sang me the song that I now know is an old 20's folk song remade by the Grateful Dead, Arlo Guthrie, and others during the early 70's. The lyrics now aren't so unintelligible to me as an adult. I think somehow when that artistic spirit entered the original writer of this song, it had my aunt in mind all along. Eight years before she was diagnosed with a cancer that would prove to be too much to fight against, she sang this beautiful song to me at my wedding. Now, I sing it back to her.

Put your arms around me like the circle of the sun.
You know I love you baby when my easy ridin's done.
Would you believe I love you? Look at the shape that I'm in!
Would you believe I'm sinking? Look at the hole that I'm in!
Stealing, stealing...nobody's got a hold on me.
Cuz' I'm stealing back to my same old used to be.

My dearest Auntie Amy, rest well in the Circle of God's Sun.