The way I was raised, we would see our cousins about once every month. Christmas and Easter for sure. Football games in the fall. Vanderbilt football, so the emphasis was more on tradition than dominance. Sometimes at an uncle’s and sometimes at a creek in the woods, but mostly at my grandparent’s house in what used to be the boonies and is now a shopping mall. No bitterness, just fact.
Any the fact that I saw my cousins so often seems extraordinary to me now. Committing to doing anything on so regular as a monthly basis also seems extraordinary. As far as I know, my grandmother cooked for upwards of 25 people on a regular basis. Those 25 included my cousins from out in the country who were an active bunch. There were me and my family, who were kind of nerdy. And there were my cousins who lived in a suburb with a back yard and a dog named snowball.
Their dad, my uncle, sold insurance and liked sports. He like sports enough to be a game announcer at the high school we all went to. He choked up on the air when his son caught the winning touchdown pass at the bowl game. My uncle coached little league which meant he coached my brother as a player and tolerated me as a bat boy. I got a coke after the game like everyone else. He took me to a minor league game once. I felt special for being one on one with him.
I don’t know if my uncle really was a sports fanatic. That’s the box I put him in. I don’t know if he liked selling insurance, but he did it for a long time. I did not know he was a gardener – like a big-time gardener, until my dad talked about it a couple of years back. The things I did not know about my uncle could fill a book much larger than the things I did.
The one thing I do know is that I had never imagined he would be the first of his generation in my family to pass on. I had not really considered who would be, but if I had it would not have been him. Yet he was the first to go, this morning. It would appear that he had a medical issue while driving, had a wreck, and was dead by the time the paramedics came. There was another car involved in the wreck, the driver of which has now died too.
That leaves a lot of questions, of course, and those are just added to the list of things I do not now and will probably never know about my uncle. But I also know that I am grateful. Grateful that he took the time to get us all together once a month. Grateful that he took some time just for me. Grateful he let me be a part of things that I had no real part of. I hope my gratitude will remind me that a few small moments spent on someone else really will make a difference.
J., that was a beautiful tribute to your uncle and your family. Sorry to hear about his (and the other drivers) passing. I am sure you earned that coke, being bat boy is tricky business! When you spoke of the frequent family gatherings it reminded me of my family and how often we spent time together. I am especially glad that us cousins had the opportunity to grow up together and experience our shared connections and childhoods. Your comment, “Grateful that he took some time just for me”, really hit home for me. My uncle Sonny passed on to Glory about four years ago, the first of his generation in my family. Uncle Sonny I credit with turning me on to country music when I was in my early teens. He would frequent a local honky tonk. When the owner changed out the music in the juke box he would give the old ones to my uncle. Of course they were 45’s back then. Well my uncle would pass the 45’s on too me. He took the time to share his interest in something with me, just me! Yes, small moments as you put it really do make a difference. And thank you for sharing your memories. My condolences.
Thank you Stephanie. There have been too many losses lately, and if it weren’t for friends and the ability to feel gratitude, I’d be an awfully sad dude.
J, thank you so much. We are so confused right now and have unbelievable sadness. Like you, I never thought about who would go first but surely never thought it would be Dad. I had to break the news to Ole Sweet yesterday as Bill was unavailable and your dad was out of town. She is totally heartbroken as well. Thanks for remembering him and your right….the days at Old Brooks Place can not be replaced and the children who did not have that experience in their lives surely missed something special.
You, Andy, Allison, and your families are much in my prayers Charlie. Thank you for taking such good care of Ole Sweet right now and for so many years. Please give everyone my love.
Thank you so much for posting those kind comments about Dad. I have always been proud to be his daughter but hearing everything that so many people have shared about him makes me even prouder and turns some of the tears into smiles. I am so heart broken that my two boys will not have longterm memories of him but at least they will have two uncles and myself to tell them just how much he loved them. Thanks again for posting this about my wonderful dad!
I know exactly what you mean about wanting our children to know our parents. My daughter will only know my mother through me, my siblings, and her cousins. At the same time, l have seen my mother’s spirit live and be nurtured in all of us, so I know it will be passed on.