The Man from Uncle

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On Saturday night, I went to a family party. I can’t remember the last time I went to a family party; about three years ago, my siblings and I stopped gathering for Thanksgiving and Christmas. And, somewhere along the way, I began spending most holidays with my neighbor, Ellen, and her family.

The occasion for the party was my Uncle Bill’s (hereafter known as UB, which is how he signs his emails) 80th birthday; Bill is my mother’s older brother. When I received the invitation in the mail, my reaction to UB turning 80 was the same reaction I had when I turned 48 last month. I shook my head in disbelief and said, “When did Uncle Bill get to be 80?! When did that happen?!”

I still felt like I was 18 other than for a few gray hairs and the fact that I had a son going off to college next year. To me, UB and my mother’s sister, Ethel, were still that young, too. Even though I could see they had gotten older, somehow my mind couldn’t process that they had.

I wondered if my view of my Uncle and Aunt had something to do with the way I saw my parents. My Mom was 56 when she died; my Dad was 69. I thought them both young at the time of their deaths, which was only enforced by the fact that my grandfather (my Dad’s father) and my grandmother (my Mom’s mother) died at 92 and 102 respectively.

When I think of my Mom and Dad today, I see them both in yesterday. As the years have passed, they have remained unchanged in my mind. My Mom is still smiling in her kitchen, where my stained glass rainbow that I made in high school still hangs in the window, and my Dad is still on his vacation in Bermuda wearing the glasses that made him look like a wise owl, albeit a handsome wise owl.



Growing up, I saw my Uncle and Aunt every Christmas or so. I wouldn’t say that our families were close, though we met for the occasional holiday, graduation, or wedding. After my Dad died, my Uncle Bill seemed to become more prominent in my life; my Mom’s mother was stilling living, so he kept me up-to-date on her condition and would always invite me to my grandmother’s momentous birthday every year; they were all momentous after 98.

I remember UB had a big 99th birthday celebration for Granny. When speaking to him at the party, he said, “Well, we decided to have a 99th birthday party, because, well….” I finished the sentence in my head saying, “…because we’re not sure if she’s going to make it to her 100th birthday,” though she amazed us all by passing away two weeks before her 103rd birthday.

UB and his wife, Pia, came to my second wedding; he enthusiastically took pictures and documented the event on a CD for me. He attended my baby shower snapping photos, and he was one of the first to see Iz when she was just a newborn. One time, when he didn’t hear from me for a stretch, he had one of his daughter’s track me down; I emailed him and told him that I was okay but just going through a bit of a rough patch.

Uncle Bill was always there for me, and if I wasn’t around, he made sure he found me. To me, this was a new emotional experience. I was always thinking in the back of my mind, “Wow, I’m not even his daughter.”

While I became closer to my Dad than I ever had been the year before he died, the level of my Uncle’s care and concern was something I had never quite experienced in my lifetime from a father figure. It was something I welcomed emotionally in my life thinking, as I pondered other relationships, “This is what it’s supposed to feel like.” My Uncle had four daughters of his own, yet he found the time to consider me one as well.

When my brother and I arrived at the VFW Hall on Saturday night, I could see that my cousin’s had put together another wonderful party; their last was for my Uncle’s and Aunt’s 50th anniversary party. For his birthday, they chose a movie theme. UB is very much into photos with one of his most recent postings on Facebook being several pictures of himself morphed into various scenes via some sort of photo program; I can definitely see how he and I are related!

A container of popcorn was placed on each table. The centerpiece on the table was a reel of film that showed Uncle Bill through the years. And, the walls were covered with movie posters, though they weren’t just any movie posters; they were family photos that my cousin had made into movie posters.

So, if you start at the beginning, you have my maternal grandmother, Louise, and grandfather, John (Jack).



Jack came to the US when he was 16 from Newcastle, England. I think this is why I am an anglophile. It’s in my genes when it isn’t on my bookcase.



My grandfather died about 50 years ago, so my grandmother spent the rest of her life alone; I never understood that. Was it that she never found another to be with or was it that she just knew she’d never again find someone like my grandfather so she chose not to search? Being a huge sloppy romantic, I always chose to believe the latter.

Here’s my grandmother being Paddington Bear.



Here’s UB when he was in the service.



Here’s my sister, my grandmother, and I.



And, here’s UB being a wild and crazy guy!



After we laid claim to a table and Iz started munching away on the popcorn, I saw my cousin, Lisa, and walked over to say hello to her. After hugs, I got the scoop on how they were getting him to the party. She then said, “My Dad loves your pictures and your movies; he’s always talking about them!” I asked, “Really?”

UB had been most complimentary whenever I posted something. He commented on my last video, “Wonderful, all I see is love.” And he even went the extra mile and “liked” most of my posted movies on Vimeo; I knew I had a fan in UB.

When I bumped into my cousin, Linda, we hugged and chatted briefly. She said, “My Dad loves your movies.” Either UB was my biggest fan, or he was driving his daughters crazy by always talking about my movies!

UB finally arrived at 6pm. He was very surprised, though he later confessed that he thought things seemed a bit out of the ordinary that evening. I could relate because I had a similar evening just a few weeks ago when I kept thinking, “Melissa never does anything spontaneous!”

After we ate dinner, my Uncle came around to each table; when he came to our table, he mentioned my movies. He asked my sister if she had seen any of them, and then he said, “You’ve got to see them. They’re great.” Then he turned to me and said, “I love that one of you biking,” and then he turned back to my sister and said, “She's on her bike with a movie camera! It’s great.”

It’s one thing to have someone say nice things about you, but it was quite another when it came from someone, well, who had somewhat taken on a dotted-line role as your father. On my mother’s birthday, I sent UB an email that simply said, “You are a wonderful Dad, and you’re a terrific Uncle. Thank you…for everything.” In turn, he thanked me for my “kind” words.

After Saturday’s party, I realized once again that even if you don’t have people, like your parents, in your life, there’s always a chance that you might discover them elsewhere if you keep an open heart. It may not be exactly the same, but it can mean just as much. After I hugged UB good-bye, I looked at him; no matter what his date of birth, he looked “wonderful.” And, I was so fortunate because as I looked at him, all I could see was love. ♥