Entry for January 17, 2007 Photo shows Uncle Chuck, Susie and Aunt Alice
When I was a very young lad, probably around eight, I used to be banished to my Grandparents home in Syracuse, N.Y. I was never sure whether my parents wanted to get rid of me or whether they thought I would enjoy this form of punishment. Well, they were rewarded by not having to put up with this kid and they were happy and as it turned out so was I. For, with my grandparents, whom I really loved, there lived my Aunt Alice and her husband Charles Howell--my Uncle Chuck. This combination of little Jimmie and Uncle Chuck was a match made in Heaven---at least from my point of view.
Chuck never earned much of a salary. For many years he worked as clerk in a hardware store and only had Sundays off. Ah but that was when he headed for the out-of-doors. He was in love with any outdoor activity and I was a recipient of his fondness of his Sunday activity. He loved to fish, hunt, dig potatoes, pick peaches, berries, of various description or anything that would allow him to further his hobby. As a result, every Sunday morning around 5:30 A.M. from my bedroom I would hear the words "C'mon Jim, lets go. I would be up in a flash, grab some breakfast and we would be in his car by 6:00 o'clock. We would often head for the Adirondack Mountains for there would always be something in season, something to shoot, just something to do in the great outdoors.
I first learned to golf when I was about eleven because Chuck liked to golf. I learned to distinguish which mushroom were the edible variety and we often would head for the same gold course he played at because there was always a plethora of mushrooms and puff balls, a usually very large type of that edible fungus in the shape of a ball. I learned a gooseberry from a boysenberry. Picking peaches or apples at his Aunt's farm was fun. I shot my first rabbit with a 410 shotgun and inexpertly shot the tail off a woodchuck feasting near his hole up on the hillside. In short, it was a paradise for a small boy and I came to love hearing his voice "C’mon Jim, lets go". I went to Syracuse every time I had a week off or a summer vacation from school. When I was nine or ten, my parents would take me to the train and I would wear shorts and because I was pretty small then, I could ride a train for the price normally reserved for age seven and under. In those days, it was no big deal to ride the train alone. Who in the world would think of bringing harm to a small boy?
When I was about eleven we moved to the country in a small community on about 2 acres of land and raised a garden each year. I learned to play Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in E(?) Minor there. I also caught a bull frog about the same size as the rabbit I shot. I would hike up to a nearby golf course and caddie for $.75 a round after I finished hoeing the garden. I did many things waiting for the Sabbath morning because then the familiar words would once again be heard and I would be up in a flash.
Unfortunately, as much as I loved being with Chuck, I discovered girls at about age fourteen and that former part of my life lost most of its glamour. But I never forgot what Charlie did for that little kid. In later years I would bring him to Minneapolis and we would drive or fly into various fishing resorts. He would stay with Louise and me for a week or two (This was after my Aunt Alice, Chuck’s wife, had passed away) and I think he really enjoyed being away from the loneliness of his small trailer near one of the Finger Lakes where he still fished, but he was alone most of the time. Some years after, I went to work in New Jersey and drove up to his trailer and we would go to dinner and I would spend the weekend with him.
We never said anything that could be construed as sentimental. Neither he or I could start the words and our throats would close up but I remember one time as I was preparing to go back to Jersey, I heard him say very softly "I'm sure lucky to have a nephew as good as you". I was crying as I got in my car and as I waved goodbye, I thought "No, I was the lucky one for all you did to give me the memories I cherish now". I cry now as I type this once again remembering the joy and happiness he brought into my life with just those simple words “C'mon Jim, lets go".
When I was a very young lad, probably around eight, I used to be banished to my Grandparents home in Syracuse, N.Y. I was never sure whether my parents wanted to get rid of me or whether they thought I would enjoy this form of punishment. Well, they were rewarded by not having to put up with this kid and they were happy and as it turned out so was I. For, with my grandparents, whom I really loved, there lived my Aunt Alice and her husband Charles Howell--my Uncle Chuck. This combination of little Jimmie and Uncle Chuck was a match made in Heaven---at least from my point of view.
Chuck never earned much of a salary. For many years he worked as clerk in a hardware store and only had Sundays off. Ah but that was when he headed for the out-of-doors. He was in love with any outdoor activity and I was a recipient of his fondness of his Sunday activity. He loved to fish, hunt, dig potatoes, pick peaches, berries, of various description or anything that would allow him to further his hobby. As a result, every Sunday morning around 5:30 A.M. from my bedroom I would hear the words "C'mon Jim, lets go. I would be up in a flash, grab some breakfast and we would be in his car by 6:00 o'clock. We would often head for the Adirondack Mountains for there would always be something in season, something to shoot, just something to do in the great outdoors.
I first learned to golf when I was about eleven because Chuck liked to golf. I learned to distinguish which mushroom were the edible variety and we often would head for the same gold course he played at because there was always a plethora of mushrooms and puff balls, a usually very large type of that edible fungus in the shape of a ball. I learned a gooseberry from a boysenberry. Picking peaches or apples at his Aunt's farm was fun. I shot my first rabbit with a 410 shotgun and inexpertly shot the tail off a woodchuck feasting near his hole up on the hillside. In short, it was a paradise for a small boy and I came to love hearing his voice "C’mon Jim, lets go". I went to Syracuse every time I had a week off or a summer vacation from school. When I was nine or ten, my parents would take me to the train and I would wear shorts and because I was pretty small then, I could ride a train for the price normally reserved for age seven and under. In those days, it was no big deal to ride the train alone. Who in the world would think of bringing harm to a small boy?
When I was about eleven we moved to the country in a small community on about 2 acres of land and raised a garden each year. I learned to play Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in E(?) Minor there. I also caught a bull frog about the same size as the rabbit I shot. I would hike up to a nearby golf course and caddie for $.75 a round after I finished hoeing the garden. I did many things waiting for the Sabbath morning because then the familiar words would once again be heard and I would be up in a flash.
Unfortunately, as much as I loved being with Chuck, I discovered girls at about age fourteen and that former part of my life lost most of its glamour. But I never forgot what Charlie did for that little kid. In later years I would bring him to Minneapolis and we would drive or fly into various fishing resorts. He would stay with Louise and me for a week or two (This was after my Aunt Alice, Chuck’s wife, had passed away) and I think he really enjoyed being away from the loneliness of his small trailer near one of the Finger Lakes where he still fished, but he was alone most of the time. Some years after, I went to work in New Jersey and drove up to his trailer and we would go to dinner and I would spend the weekend with him.
We never said anything that could be construed as sentimental. Neither he or I could start the words and our throats would close up but I remember one time as I was preparing to go back to Jersey, I heard him say very softly "I'm sure lucky to have a nephew as good as you". I was crying as I got in my car and as I waved goodbye, I thought "No, I was the lucky one for all you did to give me the memories I cherish now". I cry now as I type this once again remembering the joy and happiness he brought into my life with just those simple words “C'mon Jim, lets go".
2 comments:
Waiting for your next story, I love your blog.
Had to pry the link out of your daughter, I'm sure you'll like this format.
I'm just down the road a piece in Tucson (Marana, actually) where we're "enjoying" our 25th day of over 100*.
I'll be back!
What great stories ! I'll be checking back for more.
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