By: Marlene Oxender
Montpelier, Ohio
I remember a conversation with my Aunt Isabel about names from long ago making a comeback. She was amazed that her own first name had become popular once again. After so many years of being the only Isabel, she was surrounded by little Isabels.
My first name is a blend of two names – Maria and Magdalene. Maria means “beloved.” Magdalene means “of Magdala,” a village near the Sea of Galilee.
Marlene, therefore, is often associated with Mary Magdalene, a woman whose writings and story have been revisited in recent years and whose role as a devoted disciple of Jesus is now more widely recognized.
Not long after we’re born, we hear our spoken name. We learn where our home will be and who our family members are. We learn a belief system, and over time grow into the person we are today.
My Aunt Isabel will be remembered for her sweet personality. Like many women of her generation, she was a farm wife and homemaker. I remember the frosted bunny cakes she made for our Easter gatherings.
She baked two round layer cakes, using one to form the bunny’s face, while the other was cut into wedges to create its bowtie and tall ears.
She used jelly beans for his eyes and licorice for his whiskers. His fur was made of coconut. Life was good as we chose the piece of cake we thought would work best for us.
While searching online for a picture of one of those bunny cakes, I came upon a photo of a sugar cookie recipe that had been etched upon a tombstone. After reading the recipe, I remember thinking, Now there’s a woman who loved.
Although I didn’t know the lady who had arranged for her cookie recipe to be etched in stone, I could describe her. She wore an apron. Her kitchen was light and pretty, probably yellow. She spent her morning hours in the garden and her afternoons in the kitchen.
Her living room was cozy. Doilies in place. Houseplants blooming. A candy dish was part of the décor – gum drops in the springtime and candy corn in the autumn months. It was a simple life.
When it came time to sort through this woman’s estate, her handwritten recipe cards were like souvenirs to the family. You could say she was an Aunt Isabel.
Life is a funny thing. We’re here to learn and grow. To gain wisdom. To leave things like recipes and stories behind – written on paper or carved in stone. In Mary Magdalene’s case, her words were preserved in ancient text and rediscovered centuries after she’d written them.
One of the best things about living with passion is how our legacy takes care of itself. In the end, how we cared for each other isn’t measured by what remains visible, but rather by the memories we made together—and the familiar comforts that quietly etch themselves upon the hearts of those we loved.
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Marlene Oxender is a writer, speaker, and author. She writes about growing up in the small town of Edgerton, her ten siblings, the memorabilia in her parents’ estate, and her late younger brother, Stevie Kimpel, who was born with Down syndrome. Her three published books, Picket Fences, Stevie, and “Grandma, You Already Am Old!” are available on Amazon. Marlene can be reached at mpoxender@gmail.com