Have you ever wondered why Uncles get a bad rap? Uncles are the new stereotypical evil archetype portrayed in the media as conservative rabid Trump supporters, anti-vaxxers, unapologetic Fox News watchers, boorish drunks who ruin all family gatherings or worse, serial child molesters. Uncles are the crazy intruders at Thanksgiving dinner who turn a day of thanks to a blue/red Civil War skirmish over the turkey and sweet potatoes.
I take this uncle thing seriously. My experiences with my uncles were with a couple of exceptions, positive. I had one uncle who managed a movie theatre. For the price of a hot pastrami sandwich, I saw movies for free and got popcorn and candy to boot. Another uncle took me to New York Giant games and got me tickets for the Knicks and Rangers.
On the other hand, as in most families there is always that one uncle; and I had the uncle of all uncles. He was my father’s brother but weirdly they both had the same first name. This was very confusing to my brothers and me. Whenever we asked mom and dad why our grandparents named two of their three sons Harry, it was explained to us that my Uncle Harry’s real first name was Sam. Sure, that makes perfect sense. Years later my folks confessed and told us that dad was adopted, which at the age of 23 still came as a shock to me. A clue I seemed to have missed was my dad’s brothers were both 160 pounds soaking wet while my dad was six feet two and 250 pounds.
My Uncle Harry not only met but surpassed the stereotypical, crazy uncle. When I was about four or five years old, Uncle Harry wanted to take me to the park for the day. Uncle Harry’s ‘frugality’ was of family legend, so mom put money in my pocket and sent me off. When I returned, my mother asked if I was hungry? No, I happily responded. Uncle Harry bought me a hot dog and ice cream. As my mom searched my pants pocket for the money, she found the pockets empty. Where is the money I put in your pockets? I just shrugged. My uncle was a miser and a know it all and as the nieces and nephews grew older, his antics became more transparent. Later in his life, he bought a house in the same town that my parents lived in, and he became known to the neighbors as the crazy recluse who yelled at the kids who made the mistake of having their ball land on his lawn. Later, there were more serious allegations of abuse of a grandson. When he passed, relatives left to pick up the pieces found a home totally trashed and in serious neglect, like the uncle who inhabited it.
Sometimes crazy aunts go with crazy uncles. Uncle Harry’s third wife ended up leaving all my other aunts in the dust. The family met their match when Uncle Harry married Roz. Equally loud, equally overbearing, she was ‘caught’ at a family gathering wrapping sandwiches in napkins and stuffing them in her purse. At my brother’s wedding. I was best man, and the groom was a bit self-conscious about his recent weight gain. I spent months building him up in constant psychological warfare, convincing him that he only put on a few pounds and that nobody would notice or care. I told him this for months, right up to last minute touch-ups in the men’s room. Seconds before we were to walk down the aisle, there in the portico stood Aunt Roz. Right after I whispered one last time that my brother looked great, Aunt Roz said to him loud enough to be heard in the next county, “Jesus Christ, you put on weight.”
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Now an uncle myself, I try and take my role seriously. I try to be generous, loving, and discrete in imparting wisdom. But I had to learn on the job. When I was engaged to my wife, one of my nieces was about three years old. We lived in different states, so my little niece did not know me very well. But she absolutely loved her aunt. On the few occasions we did meet, without fail, she would walk up, hit me on the leg and yell………. “I hate you.” All she knew was I was taking her precious aunt away from her. This went on right up to the night before our wedding but fortunately on our wedding day, her verbal skills were insufficiently developed to oppose the union.
I exacted my revenge, although not intentionally. Shortly after we were married, my sister-in-law brought our precious niece down to Virginia for the weekend. She and my wife decided to go shopping, leaving me to babysit. This was a mistake. I was now all alone with this this little human being who had been slamming doors in my face and hitting me for most of her young life. Not knowing the first thing about taking care of a young child, I channel surfed until I hit on a movie, I thought would be suitable. This movie was so influential in my young niece’s life that to this day it is prominent in family folklore. “It’s Alive,” or better known as “Killer Babies,” was a delightful child’s tale about babies replete with fangs and claws, luring victims to their cribs and carriages where efficiently and methodically, the little babies slashed their prey to death.
My niece suffered from nightmares for years, as I am still reminded to this day. Eventually my scarred niece grew up, stopped always hitting me and for years we have had an uneasy détente. Still, after the killer baby’s incident, I was only allowed to babysit under the direct supervision of my wife.
Shortly after we moved north, my wife and I went over to my niece’s house to babysit. We were watching television after gently coaxing her upstairs for bedtime. They had a large German Shepard named Barney who started barking in the backyard. Not surprisingly, Barney did not recognize our authority as babysitters and refused to stop barking. After five minutes of barking our little niece marched down the stairs and yelled out the back door, “Shut up Barney.” Barney continued to bark, and our niece came downstairs a second time and yelled, “Shut up Barney.” This happened a third time and she again went to the backdoor and yelled, “Shut-up Barney. And as she walked past us a third time, our cute little three-year-old niece shook her head and muttered; “F-ing dog.”
As an uncle, I am entrusted with a key role in the lives of my nieces and nephews. Uncles and aunts are among the first adults that play a role in children’s lives other than parents and grandparents. I have had my wins as well as losses. But most importantly, this uncle is always there for them, warts and all.
