The Absent Uncle: It’s only a story

I’ve always enjoyed a good story, whether the story is told orally or written. My wife tells me I love stories too much (and she has heard them all, so she says) but I hear stories from her and her family and they love to retell just like me. Stories are part of family.

I can remember as a little kid growing up being able to sit with the family elders and hear their stories. As I got older, I still enjoyed hearing some of the same “yarns” as they may have changed or matured as the years went by. 

Those elders, mainly uncles, would talk about their youth, about farming experiences – mishaps – were usually the top stories, and everyone had probably heard each of the tales a number of times, but that didn’t matter.

My favorite storyteller was my Uncle Rueben. My mother’s older brother was the tallest man in the family (I caught up to him in height in high school), with the bluest eyes and a shock of white hair. And could he tell stories. 

He would start on one, get diverted by an interruption of some sort, and move on to another and somehow segue back to the original without missing a beat. He laughed (so much so he became almost non-understandable giggling so hard) while telling stories on himself and the descriptive language was filled with “whatchamacallit”, “whatshisname”, and “ohmygosh”, so you filled in the blanks from previous telling’s or just kept listening not worrying about those details.

As he got older sometimes those stories got confusing as they ran together and the “whathisname” became pretty obscure to identify – but he so enjoyed telling those stories. And I loved listening.

The last time I had the pleasure of sitting with Uncle Rueben was just before he passed at age 92. He was telling me about helping out neighbors and mowing their lawns. The mishaps with the mower and breaking the whatchamacallit were all there and then something new was added.

With those clear blues eyes he looked at me and said, “What I wouldn’t give to be 78 again and mow those lawns.”

Now my friends, that is a story worth retelling.