My dad was the oldest of eight siblings, four of them his brothers. The first uncle to be born was John, who came along when dad was a few years old. He became a mailman in Hanson and when my sister Penny and I were very little he came to see us almost every day after work. In winter he pulled us around on our sleds, helped us make snowmen and taught us how to make and throw snowballs. In every season he thought of something fun to do or to teach us. His bride became our Aunt Cam and they had two sons and two daughters who are cousins we still keep in touch with; two of them being born close to the same time as two of my siblings were. Both our families had many good times together growing up.
Uncle Charlie was born about a year and a half after Uncle John. Some people called him ‘Good Time Charlie’, which fit him very well. He was easy going, jovial, loved cars, trucks and the stock car races. He drove around for a while in an old ambulance he came by that was olive drab green with a big Red Cross on its roof. He’d drive it to the stock car races and get waived right in, always heading for the pit, in case someone needed help with their race car. He was well liked, had a good reputation and had helped many people with their vehicles. He came to our house often and we always loved hearing about his latest new adventure. One winter his adventure occurred at a new job he had started while driving a diesel-powered truck hauling a temperature controlled trailer called a Reefer. It carried frozen pies he had to deliver to a food service warehouse in New York. A very bad blizzard stranded him on the highway in New York for three days. Mom and dad asked him as many questions as us kids did. He did have a CB radio in the truck to call for help and he stayed warm enough. The big question was, “what did you do for food?” Charlie’s jolly robust laugh turned his face red as he blurted out, “What do you think I did; I ate all the pies!”
The next uncle to be born after Charlie was Richard. He was tall, good looking, and quite a character. When uncle Charlie was discharged from the Service, he brought a dog home with him he found in Tennessee that he couldn’t part with and named her Tenny. I was sixteen that summer, Donna a year younger. Uncle Rich was in his late twenties and drove an old rag top convertible. My mom sent us over to Gram’s to bring back some things she left at our house. Rich was eating breakfast and Gram wasn’t home. He asked us if we’d like to make some money. We asked him what he needed done. He said there was a rip in his rag top roof and would we mend it using Gram’s needles and thread and he’d pay us. We said we’d try and he gave us the sewing box with three different-sized needles and some thick thread. Neither Donna nor I had seen needles like these or such thick thread. Rich said he thought they were used for Grampa’s work clothes or dungarees. While Rich was getting ready for work, Donna and I climbed up on the car and started stitching the canvas top. The needles were hard to push through the canvas so we took some of the empty wooden spools in the sewing box to push them through. It wasn’t easy work but we did the best we could, taking great pains to do a good job and reinforcing it with more thread. When Rich came outside to take a look, he was pleased, adjusted the rag top and paid us. We brought the sewing box back in the house, put it in Gram’s room and went back out to say goodbye to Rich. He was sitting in the car smiling, all windows down and Tenny, who was the same color as the canvas top, was sprawled across the rag top roof. We looked at Rich, he grinned and said not to worry, that’s where she slept most of the time. Donna and I looked at each other with the same thought; that it was probably why it was torn to begin with. He was so happy, sitting in his car ready to go to work when all of a sudden, Tenny fell through the roof into his lap. He let loose with some colorful language, Tenny leaped out the window and ran towards the apple orchard. Even though we felt bad for him, we couldn’t stop laughing.
The last Uncle to be born a couple years after Richard was George. One of my first memories of Uncle George was when I was about five and he was about fourteen. Mom and Dad were bringing me and Penny, who was a year old, over to Gram’s so she could babysit us. It was winter and Richard and George were sledding on a path that went from Gram’s back door to the woodshed. Mom took Penny in the house while dad asked Richard and George if they’d give me a sled ride and to be very careful that I didn’t get hurt. As young as I was I thought they were funny. They kept yelling at each other to be careful or David (my dad) would kill them. Years later when Uncle George retired, he moved to Florida. He came back often to visit his son and grandchildren. One of those times he came to my house when my daughter Heidi was visiting with her daughter, Alisha, who was twelve at the time. When George found out Alisha had been skating since she was six years old and was in a competition at the Bridgwater Ice Skating Rink, he asked if he could come. Heidi and George had always liked each other from the time she was little. On the day of the competition, my husband Dave and I got to the rink early to save a good space on the bleachers for all who were coming from our family. George saw us as soon as he came into the rink and we all sat together enjoying the visit while waiting until it was Alisha’s turn to skate. When she came out on the ice, all conversation stopped. She looked beautiful and confident. When the music started her skating was flawless and so graceful as she glided over the ice. Her ending was so poised and the applause was joyful. To our delight, Alisha won the competition that day and was awarded a lovely plaque. Uncle George was as proud as we all were, claiming she was the most graceful skater on the ice that day and as good as Dorothy Hamill. We all agreed!
All my uncles, except Uncle George, have passed. I have many good memories of him, this being one of my favorites. I always love seeing him and hearing from him. These four awesome guys have given me some wonderful things to remember. I’m also very happy and grateful to say their sisters, my two aunts, are with us still, for which I’m also very grateful for, they have helped me with some of my stories, remembering things that happened before I was born.