Giant.

That's the title of the book I'm reading....... Giant, by Edna Ferber..... vintage, classic story of Texas and the ranchers who have called it home since they "stole it away from the Mexicans."

I have found quite a few hardcover books on Texas at the local resale shop, and for just one dollar each, I can't seem to just leave them there. I bring them home (rescue them) and read them, each book giving a lesson in every chapter. I found an excellent copy of Texas by James Michener, but I haven't read that one yet. I'm sure Michener didn't include that line about stealing Texas (or Tejas, as it was called), but I'm anxious now to read his account of this state. One of my favorite books by Michener was Hawaii, which I read shortly after we traveled to Hawaii a few years ago. I wish I had thought to read that book before we went there because I would have looked more closely for certain things and places.

Texas is certainly a land of its own...... a "country" of its own, as Edna Ferber wrote. The land, the cattle, the people, in that order--- that's what counts here. The land is everything, and the more you own, the more it owns you.

Hollywood made a movie of Giant, with Rock Hudson in the lead role. It was one of the late-night movies that I saw with my Aunt Dolly in the living room of my grandparents' house. "The Million Dollar Movie," on Channel 11, I think it was, after the 11:00 news. Everyone else had gone up to bed long before the news came on, and by the time the news was over, Aunt Dolly was finished with everything in the kitchen and the pantry, and it was her time to just be. And Aunt Dolly loved the old movies........ "Made when Hollywood was a destination, not just a big white sign," she would say. I wish I could remember more of that particular movie, but I just can't, and I don't even think I've seen it since those days in grandma's living room in front of the old black and white television.

My Aunt Dolly will be 97 in a couple of weeks. She's still "as healthy as a 97-yr-old lady could possibly be," she says. She sounds wonderfully strong, alert, with-it....... her new life in Florida (more than two years now) is finally agreeing with her. Or maybe it should be the other way around-- she is agreeing with it.

When I call Aunt Dolly on the phone these days, I no longer have to shout to be heard. She finally accepted the fact that she needs "a little help" with her hearing. My cousin S took her to an ear specialist who fitted her with "teeny-tiny" hearing aids that "are so small you can barely see them." Aunt Dolly was more excited that they couldn't be seen than she was to finally be able to hear conversations without reading lips-- which of course isn't even possible over the phone.

One thing that Aunt Dolly is disappointed in these days-- she says she's "getting shorter." She said she can't reach things if they're too high up. I told her that I can't either but that doesn't mean I'm shrinking, it just means the things we're needing have been put too far out of reach. "Put the things you use the most down lower," I suggested. "If I do that, I'll be tripping over everything I own," she said. "I don't like being this small," my Aunt Dolly told me.

Small? Aunt Dolly... who rocked every baby born into our family, who cooked delicious meals seven days a week, who turned holidays into major celebrations that we all still talk about to this day, who loved us all without question, who was always there with a smile, a hug, a suggestion, an encouragement. Who saved bits of ribbons and greeting cards and pretty papers and cute little boxes and who could always turn a nothing-day into an adventure. My Aunt Dolly isn't small. She is the giant in the family, the glue that held us all together. And she still does, because those of us who grew up with her have carried her traditions forward, using some of her magic and adapting it to the lives we have now. We know through her teaching that those little tid-bits of magic are the difference between the ordinary and the extraordinary. Love is in the details.

When my Aunt Dolly turned 75, my cousin S arranged a big party for her. Friends, family, nearly everyone was there. My dad missed that party, and so did I... life got in the way for both of us, and we just couldn't be there. A video was made of that celebration, though, and I got to see it when my cousin L sent me a tape of the party. At the very end, the last song that was played was a Kenny Rogers' favorite-- "Through The Years." Family and friends got into a big circle, and Aunt Dolly was in the center, and everyone was singing along with Kenny Rogers, and Aunt Dolly was trying not to cry, and there didn't seem to be a dry eye in the place as she went from person to person for a hug. My cousin Anthony was at the very end of the circle, and as Aunt Dolly went up to him, Anthony picked up my Aunt Dolly the same way she had picked up every single baby born into our family. Six-foot-something Anthony cradled five-foot-nothing Aunt Dolly in his arms as if she were a baby, and he danced around the circle with her just the way Aunt Dolly used to rock all the babies.

I watched that part of the video and just cried. Tears just streamed down my face and dripped on my neck and I was mesmerized as I watched, not even able to move my hand to grab a tissue. Thinking of it now, I can see the circle of family and friends.... I can see Anthony holding Aunt Dolly, and in my mind's eye, it was just the most loving, most beautiful gesture. There was a rainy day when I watched that video again with our young friend Miss C, and she cried also at that part-- and she hasn't ever met Aunt Dolly. When the video was over, C said "There should be a rule that every family has to have an Aunt Dolly." Indeed.

I don't know how my fingers got to typing about Aunt Dolly when they started off typing about a book on Texas. Maybe it was the word giant that did it.