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MY FAVORITE UNCLE
My parents grew up in large families on farms. Mom was the youngest of seven and Daddy was the youngest of four, plus a half-brother and stepbrother added by Grandpa Tom’s second marriage. I had a nine Uncles.
There are at least four degrees of Uncledom in the Ozarks: 1) Blood related, 2) marriage related and 3) a more distant connection was called shirt-tail related. In addition, older men who were unrelated were often given the honorary title because they were respected members of the community. Fortunately, because it was a small village where everyone’s genealogy was well known, the simple title of Uncle worked for all degrees of Uncledom.
In choosing a favorite uncle, I had the following cast of characters to consider:
On Mom's side of the family, I had Uncles Clancy, Earl, Tom, Abe, Dewey, and Rube.
Uncle Clancy was Mom’s oldest brother. He was drafted into the Army in 1917 and shipped out from Ft. Riley, Kansas where the Spanish Flu pandemic originated. He died the last week of the War in Flanders, likely from the flu. It seemed to me that his ghost hovered over the family, the missing prince who held so much promise, cut down in his prime.
Uncle Earl was named for an infamous great uncle who was a Confederate sniper in the Civil War. He chose a career in law enforcement. Like many men in my family who were peace officers, he was drawn to a profession that allowed wearing a gun.
Uncle Tom was the spoiled youngest son. Handsome and charming, he had a weakness for moonshine but was loved by all.
Uncles by marriage were:
Uncle Abe married my Aunt Etta, he was the family “fixer” because he had many skills that we needed from building to cleaning fish. I could count on Uncle Abe to have my back until the day he died. He was a carpenter by trade and could fix almost anything wood or mechanical.
Uncle Rube was long gone from the family when I was born. He was what is known as a “rounder”. He drank and fought in local bars known as “buckets of blood”. My Aunt Fanny finally had enough and divorced him – a shocking act of independence in the 1930’s.
Uncle Dewey married my Aunt Dink. He was often a companion of Rube’s in debauchery, but Aunt Dink apparently had more patience.
On Daddy’s side I had Uncles Shorty, Doc, and Son.
Daddy had one brother, Uncle Shorty (Hiram). Aunt Pauline insulted my mom for not serving a snack when they visited, so the brothers were not on speaking terms for the years I was growing up and I never got to know him.
After my Grandma Babe died during her fifth pregnancy (another ghostly figure that hovered about.) Grandpa Tom married Grandma Annie. They had a son, Uncle Doc (Darrel) and Annie earlier had a son, my Uncle Son (Tom).
Uncle Son lived next door with Grandma Annie. Late in life he married Reba (she never gained “Aunt” status for reasons unclear.)
Uncle Doc was in the Army while I was growing up, so I barely knew him or his wife, Corinne.
But the favorite was easy – my Uncle Abe Lines. He and Aunt Etta were like a bonus set of parents. People I could count on, no matter what the circumstances.
They filled in the gaps in my early life that my own parents were unable to do.
Uncle Abe took me to movies in a nearby town, taught me to love the Cardinals baseball team and when I showed an interest in something like wood carving, he gave me the tools I needed like a pocket knife and a bar of soap to practice on.
A few years ago, I was asked to define a successful person. I concluded that my Uncle Abe and Aunt Etta were the most successful people I had ever known. Not because they had a lot of money. In fact they never had much but they were the most generous-hearted people I ever knew.
The foundation of their success was their deep love for each other. They fell in love from the moment they met sometime in the 1920s until my aunt had passed away some fifty years later. They were not openly affectionate, but had that steady closeness of a contented couple. Their relationship calls to mind the tearful country ballad “He Stopped Loving Her Today” a song about the death of a widower who clung to the memory of his wife. They shared that kind of enduring love.
When Uncle Abe learned that I was moving back to Pineville from Philadelphia in 1994, even though he was in his 80s he promptly went up to the house I was moving into and painted it. He wanted it to look nice and fresh for me.
I know he loved me and he treated me like I was his own child. He had no biological children of his own. My aunt had had a catastrophic pregnancy early in their marriage and was unable to have more children. He never mourned that fact, he simply adopted Aunt Etta’s daughter Freda and sealed me in his heart.
It is no wonder that he was my favorite uncle. He was special in so many ways – the most important was his unconditional love.
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