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Uncle Fred
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Uncle Fred |
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Tim Senior Member
since 1999-06-08
Posts 1794 |
I did not like my Uncle Fred. I know it sounds terrible, but if truth be known, I despised the man. Yet, the first part of each December, I would unwillingly join my family to make our annual trek to my Uncle’s house in Kansas City where he lived in a small house reeking of liquor and painted with a layer of the result of years of chain-smoking camel cigarettes. I would plead with my parents, please let me stay home. He could care less whether I am there or not. He does not even know my name, he just calls me, “Hey you.” My father would reply, “Tim, Fred is the only uncle you have and that is that.” And so, to Kansas City the first part of every December I would go. Uncle Fred had a nasty cough. He kept a coffee can beside his beat up sofa where his incessant coughing would bring up huge globs of the most disgusting glop known to man which he would deposit haphazardly into the coffee can. Back home, I would have nightmares about drowning in a river of Uncle Fred’s “glop.” Between the tobacco smoke, the odor of alcohol, and “the” coffee can, I spent most of my time at Uncle Fred’s perfecting my gag reflex. My uncle had never married. It was no secret to a young boy as to why he lived alone. Who would marry such a revolting person? Besides the house, you also had to cope with Fred’s less than charming personality. How could anyone not dread to be in his presence? His constant harping on any topic raised clearly established to me that not a single thing in my Uncle’s life brought him even a modicum of pleasure. Early December had arrived my eighth grade year. I was already in my Uncle Fred funk knowing the trip was at hand. It was a sense of youthful joy when mom told me that we would not be going to Kansas City this year as Uncle Fred was not feeling well. How pleasant early December was when you were not confronted by the “glop.” Just a month later, Uncle Fred passed. The funeral remains somewhat fuzzy in my memory; I do recall but a handful of people standing graveside. Following the service we went to my uncle’s home. It was still just as small and just as disgusting. Dad took me into Uncle Fred’s bedroom, which in our early December visits, I had never entered or even been allowed to looked beyond its always closed door. My father took a small wooden box down from the shelf in the closet and sat down beside me on the unmade bed. He took off the lid, reached inside, then handed me a single sheet of paper and small medal. “For you,” he said. “Awarded to Ensign First Class, Timothy Frederick Johnson, for injuries received on the 7th day of December, 1941 while serving aboard the USS Arizona…” Nearly forty years later, in the early part of December, the 7th to be exact, I drove to Kansas City. I did not drive by where a small house may or may not still be standing, but instead I drove to snow covered cemetery to stand beside a man I wished I’d known. |
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| © Copyright 2004 Tim - All Rights Reserved | |||
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1slick_lady Member Ascendant
since 2000-12-22
Posts 6088standing on a shadow's lace |
my God you have just made the hair on the back of my neck stand up...nice work...helen |
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KristieSue
since 2003-01-31
Posts 1460PA, US |
oh my god...I am sitting here in a quiet room and just gasped out loud...said "oh my god" and have tears in my eyes. how touching |
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Endlessecho Member
since 2003-09-05
Posts 398I live within myself |
Kind-of reminds me of my relationship with my father. Only recently in his dying days am I beginning to get to know him and form a bond. Even so, I know I'll never know him like I'd like to. It's hard to get past all the "glop". |
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iliana Member Patricius
since 2003-12-05
Posts 13434USA |
We were all children once. Wonderful writing. |
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skyshine
since 2002-02-07
Posts 3058Beneath the northern stars |
How powerful...is this a true story? I'm sure Uncle Fred appreciates it. There are lots of people I wish I'd known better...well done.  ~sky Hold on, if you feel like letting go |
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Kahlil Senior Member
since 2003-04-12
Posts 1881 |
Tim, I've got the chills. What a moving write, what a message! ~K~ |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
We don't always know to scratch the layers in our youth - or even when later, the person revolts us so much - we think they have never done anything worthy in their life... not until we look behind the closed doors. How much do I appreciate your compassion? More than you know. |
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