U = Uncle #SpankA2Z #Uncles 4

U = Uncle

I’m  impressed with the people who have actually planned these posts, most of mine (okay, all of them) are done the night before.  The most organized I’ve gotten throughout this process has been to write in my notes app on my phone things like:  G=Good Girl, K=Kitty Play, and this one for today U=Uncle.

Now there was a time that my brain would have remembered these for weeks without writing them down. Not anymore. And I guess as of today, I’m now moving to another level. I can’t write one word triggers for my memory either–I’m going to have to write phrases and possibly even paragraphs.

I have not a friggin clue why I wanted to write about “Uncle.”  I’ve been pondering this the whole damn ass day.  I don’t even have any cool uncles. At least not uncles like these.

My father had two brothers and a sister, I saw them eight times total in my lifetime.  They were nice men, but they were strangers to me.  They were stern Ukranian men,  and I was petrified of them.  The one uncle worked at IBM, and he gave me my first electric typewriter. An IBM Selectric that I still own.  I adored that typewriter and used it even recently. But I’m sure that wasn’t the reason 🙂

My mother had two brothers and a sister. The one uncle had a passel of kids and he was pretty abusive, so all the kids in the family gave him a wide birth and didn’t deal with him very much.  The other uncle was a total alpha male.  He had a southern drawl and he didn’t just walk into a room … he sauntered.  He held cigarettes cupped on the inside of his hand–you know what I mean?  The way cool men held them to keep the wind from hitting them and putting them out (I think?).

And I kid you not, he looked like the Marlboro Man–he had a mustache, tight jeans, he always had a white or gray cowboy hat, and boots. He lived pretty much everywhere in the south and southwest. He was a man’s man.  He didn’t have to raise his voice, that deep growly voice would just say something like:  “I believe behavior like that’ll get you a lickin’.”  Or “If I was you, I’d get outside and play before y’all find yourselves getting paddled.”  We’d run like hell or immediately sit down –and stay there quietly for as long as he required it.  He was a very sweet, kind, and gentle man. I don’t think he ever laid a hand on any of us.  But his kids assured us it was a possibility, and none of us wanted that mountain of a man spanking us. He absolutely loved children, and would announce it to anyone listening.  But I don’t think he’s the reason I wrote “Uncle” down in my app.

The uncle I loved most and was closest with was my mother’s, sister’s husband. We saw them probably four to five times a year.  As teenagers during summer vacation, my sister and I would spend four weeks at their house; and then they would switch, and their three girls would stay at our house for four weeks.  Those were amazing summers. 

He’s the uncle most of us have and if you didn’t have one, you probably wished for one.  The uncle  that was funny as hell and said things that no adults were supposed to say to kids, but they did it to piss off the women.  He’d laugh and wink at them, as we died in laughter.  My mother loved her beehive hairdos in the early 70s, and he was the only person I knew who didn’t care if my mother got angry.  She teased him or said something, he picked her up tossing her over his shoulder, marching out of the house and through the backyard (with all of us–including my father–screaming in laughter) and he threw her in the pool–clothes and all.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen her that mad.

He’d tell me “I made sure to get your favorite cookies for you, so now you have to get my beer for the whole four weeks.”  And he meant it.  He’d laugh his ass off, yelling up the stairs from his chair that I needed to get him a beer, and I better hurry up.  LOL 

He never slept well and I remember getting up in the middle of the night for some reason as a little girl, and he was sitting at the kitchen table smoking cigarettes. He fixed me a bowl of cereal, and I sat with him talking about who knows what for hours.  As an early riser, I typically ate my breakfast alone with him while the others slept.  He worked construction in the summer for the town and drove the snow plows in the winter, so he was always up early for work. He’d pour my cereal waiting for me to come down.  He was the person to give me my first cup of coffee.  Black and strong!  I remember him telling my mother, “Jesus, I can talk to that girl about anything. We talked half the damn morning. She never runs out of things to say.”  LOL  Sound familiar anyone??!! 

He couldn’t wait for me to get married so he could dance at my wedding.  But he didn’t just slow dance in a circle like a lot of men, he was one of those that twirled and spun you in circles, gliding across the dance floor and used the whole damn floor for a slow dance.  I died a thousand deaths, I just knew I’d step on him.  He didn’t give a hoot, and he cried dancing with me at my wedding.

Everyone should have an uncle like that.  I hope you had an uncle like that.   

I have not a clue why I wrote “Uncle” and may never figure it out.  But I’m glad I decided to write about the uncles in my life regardless.

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