I Remember

When I was growing up, I had two families. One I'd go to summers, and work on their ranch. From the instant I was there, I was part of that family. I had a new brother and sister and a different mom and dad.

I've always been a night-owl, and loved sleeping in, but this new dad would come down the hallway booming "DAYLIGHT'S BURNING" at what must have been 5 in the morning. And he wouldn't let up. He was like a human alarm clock. There's no way you could sleep with that kind of racket in the hall.

I'd drag myself to the kitchen table, looking for my familiar box of cereal and a bowl, but that was not to be. What was happening in the kitchen was dozens of eggs frying, bacon sizzling, slinging hashbrowns, rattling plates and glasses poured with OJ. It was like some preternatural feast. At first I was not too keen on this change of diet. But in the days that followed, I discovered its value. It was fuel I needed! We burned it off fast. I never knew there were so many things to do in a hayfield. Mowing, raking, bailing, hauling. Machinery, cows, feed, herding, de-horning, shots, chasing, moving stuff, whew. Not at all like wandering around in the forests I was used too. But I never got PAID for wandering in the forest either. That was new. And paid pretty well for standards at the time, and living expenses of a young boy.

And I really got to enjoy the simple things, like Aunt K making a bee-line to us in a truck with a cooler full of ice water in the back. I don't think I've seen a more welcome sight. My earliest memories of Aunt K, whose heart is as big as Texas, was chasing us around trying to give us hugs. Hugs, when she caught us, that were the most heart-felt hugs of pure love you could imagine.

After a few of these summer stays, I got to know my Uncle more. And I was amazed. I had some biases against people that were big. And he was a giant. Based on my extremely limited experience at the time, I didn't think big people were too smart. But he was. Not only really smart, but curious about just about anything. He was also one of the most "authentic" people I'd ever met. He said just what he thought, and didn't beat around the bush. Which sometimes got him in trouble at family gatherings, where the crowd could be a little on the prim side. Some of that trouble, it must be confessed, was with our instigation. Like the time we put these ingenious little "loads" in his cigar that explode when you light it. Of course, after fetching him a cigar and standing around to make sure he lit it while with a group of adults, it went off with a pop and the first words out of his mouth was "You little shits!" And then he laughed.

BD knew how to work hard and he knew how to relax. And there's nothing like the feeling of relaxing after a hard days work. After some particularly hard days, he'd take us to a family run Mexican restaurant. One time he said we'd be going "dutch." Well my younger sibling was pretty excited about this until he found out it meant everyone had to pay their own way. He didn't want to part with any of his hard earned treasure, so ended up dining on water and crackers. Of course, when the bill finally came, BD picked up the tab and G sure wished he'd ordered those enchiladas.

The only time I remember BD not saying what he thought was when Val and I decided to whip up a chocolate cake from scratch. We were dumping milk and eggs and cocoa all at the same time and somehow ended up both putting salt in. Way too much salt we found out later. We were mighty proud of our cake and cut him a big slice. He ate the whole thing and bragged about it, but when Val and I went to eat us a piece later we had to spit it out because it was too salty. Nobody else ate any, but BD never said a word.

For several years I got him a calendar of famous out-houses for Christmas which seemed to tickle him. But his last year, when his illness had progressed and the doctors said he wouldn't be around much longer, I didn't think a calendar would be very appropriate. So I got him the ugliest pillow I could find ---it had an embroidery of a deer, or a caribou, or it could've even been a rat with horns. Imagine the pride and affection I felt for this very special Uncle when we gave this to him and he took one look at it and said "Man, that's the ugliest pillow I ever saw!"

I could say so many things about BD. But that's all I'm going to say about that. He made an impression on so many lives; I know he made a deep one on mine. There's a part of my very essence that would be different if I hadn't known him. A gift I can only try to repay, with the nephews and nieces that I love. There's no one who can walk in his footsteps, he was one of a kind. I wish the greatest blessings to his family, whom I remember as this solid unit of warmth and endeavor around the breakfast table those early mornings, in the deepest sense we have all suffered a great loss, but I know they, and we, will soldier on, such is our way. Love you BD.