Birthday Toast

Today is my uncle's birthday. The very same uncle who "taught" me to swim. Oddly enough, he is my favorite of my mother's siblings. He, my mother, and I have the same quirky, goofy, and sometimes morbid, sense of humor.

He moved in with us for a time after he graduated college. He was in his mid-twenties and had had no previous experience with children. I was a grownup stuffed into the body of 3 year old. Children aren't easy to deal with at the best of times, but I was a strange little child. He never knew what to do with me. I was serious, solemn, neat freak of a child. He taught me to loosen up and I broke him in.

I remember when I lost my first tooth. I was playing Hide and Seek with my cousin and his friends. I tripped on a speck of dirt and fell, knocking my chin on the sidewalk. This made my already loose tooth pop out of my mouth and land a few inches from my face. Normally, falling like this would've sent me off into a crying jag, but I was so excited about my tooth that I scooped it up and ran home to tell my uncle all about it. I was too busy telling my uncle about my tooth to really take in his horrified expression. (Now that I think about it, it was similar to the expression he had when he threw me into the pool.) He kept interrupting my story-- I do love telling a story-- about the game of Hide and Seek and how I fell and so on. I remember the phrases "Blood.. You're bleeding" and "Your mother is going to kill me." but mom never did kill him and I had a good "How I Lost My First Tooth" story.

He went to see me in my class plays. I remember looking out at the crowd and seeing his beaming face. Wait, no.. His laughing face. He was laughing. Pointing and laughing. Then taking pictures. But I was happy to see him anyway.

He was also there the first time I got carsick. My uncle and I would go on the 5 hour car trip to my grandparents' farm each summer. I'd stay for a few weeks up there. He took me to a diner before our trip. I ordered my breakfast, but couldn't eat much. He told me to eat up or he'd take me right back home. I ate up. I ate too much. I warned him that I was going to throw up. He sped across several lanes to pull over onto the shoulder. I remember how he dumped all of my Barbies out of a bag and told me to puke in the bag. I cried because my Barbies were on the floor. Then I threw up in the bag. He left that on the side of the road and told me to hush when I said that he was littering.

I also kept his speeding ticket a secret because my mom would've killed him. Nor did I tell on him about the swearing.

I know those all sound like horrible stories, but they've become fond memories. My uncle taught me many things. The most important thing he taught me was how to laugh at myself. What seems miserable or embarrassing will eventually become a really great story to tell. I've got a lot of stories to tell. Some of them are thanks to him.

Happy Birthday, Uncle A.