Do you have those relatives in your family that you vow never to be like? Uncle Bob, God rest his soul, is the guy in our family who we still talk about with those “can you believe he wore those tee-shirts in public” remembrances and laughter.
Uncle Bob was my wife’s uncle. One of the “four boys;” the oldest being my wife’s dad. Unlike his three other brothers Uncle Bob never quite outgrew his adolescence.
It was very embarassing going out to eat with Uncle Bob; but, also very memorable. He would walk into the restaurant he had selected, whether it was a simple diner or a nice place, as though he was the local “big shot” or James Dean or some combination thereof. He would pull out a twenty dollar bill and wave it, literally wave it, in front of the hostess so that our party could be seated quickly. Just imagine that at an IHOP or Denny’s; worse yet, at a place you really wanted to eat! The rest of the family would stand a bit removed from him as he did his bribe thing and we would all look away in another direction.
Typically we only saw Uncle Bob in the summer when that side of our family made the pilgrimage to southern Maine, to a community that had been “Mecca” each summer since the 1920s. In some odd way, even though we sometimes loath the thought of getting together with Uncle Bob and his wife, Aunt (Ant in that part of New England) Sylvia, being with him was a wonderful part of being together as a family, being in Maine and the fabric of what made this time so rich for everyone. We still laugh, he has been gone now for at least five years, about what might have happened to his collection of “copulating lobster tee-shirts.” Try explaining to your six and ten year old daughters what the lobsters on Uncle Bob’s tee-shirt were doing and saying!
Last month was our annual pilgrimage to Maine. My lovely bride and I drove from Pittsburgh. A long drive but one that was punctuated with remembrances of other years and of our treks to the “holy land.” This year it was just the two of us. One daughter now lives in Houston, Texas and the other was flying in a few days later because of a work commitment. We stay with my wife’s sister, my brother-in-law and their two daughters at their cottage, four blocks from the ocean. Now we are Uncle and Aunt (Auntie is the closest my wife will let our nieces get to Ant).
I must admit that on a couple of occasions I felt a little like Uncle Bob. Please note, I am NOT wearing any copulating lobster tee-shirts nor anything like that! However, at times I would say something outloud that sounded vaguely like something Uncle Bob would utter. I knew when it had happened because my wife would give me the “go to your room” look that spouses perfect after years of marriage. At first my utterances would startle me. What was happening to me? Even my brother-in-law would occasionally devolve with me into this uncontrolled adolescence; and he is ten years younger than I am!
One funny example I must put down in black and white. I know that those of you who know me know that this a gross aberration of who I am and, that you will forgive my trepasses as I will yours. My sister-in-law, brother-in-law and I, not my wife mind you, she is a tea-totaler, have made it a “tradition” to imbibe in martinis when we are together. Usually it is one martini each on a designated night with my wife as the designated observer. Well, this year we had one and a half martinis each and at one point decided to call my younger daughter on her cell phone (she had not arrived in Maine yet). She now refers to that incident as “the night that my dad and uncle drunk-dialed me.” It was hilarious in an Uncle Bob sort of way. We don’t quite remember what we said to her but we laugh, rather sheepishly (now you might better understand why I chose the blog name of dumb sheep).
So, I admit it. I at times act like Uncle Bob. And, you know, it is OK. Maybe it is part of growing older that we want to prove to ourselves that we can still giggle, laugh and just be downright stupid. Too much of life is too serious and most of the serious stuff we have no control over and it is indeed really serious.
I guess next year we should raise a martini glass to Uncle Bob…then giggle and laugh together.
