Uncle Norman

My Uncle Norman died last Friday night, January 23, 2015. He had been ill for a long time, but none of us expected him to go yet. My poor Aunt Helena and my cousins must be in shock.


Melanie had called me Friday morning to say she had some sad news: Uncle Norman had an obstruction and, basically, his family was told that he could pass on pain medications, in a bed with the family around him, or on an operating table. Not much of a choice, but, with only those two options the decision was obvious. He passed away with his family surrounding him. While I was on the phone with Melanie that morning I felt so matter-of-fact and almost distant, and I found myself wondering at my own heartlessness as I heard this sad news about the only uncle I ever really knew—a man I'd known and loved my whole life. Then, after Melanie and I said good-bye and hung up the phone, I cried for fifteen minutes and had bouts of melancholy the rest of the day. Saturday morning I got the news that he had passed.

Uncle Norman and Dad

Uncle Norman is my dad's younger brother. Well, Dad has three younger brothers—Norman, Nolan, and Marvin, but Marvin died as an infant, and Nolan died in an accident in his early thirties. (Dad also has a sister, my Aunt Esther, who is still living.) Norman is the only one of my dad's brothers that I ever knew, and he married my mom's only sister (her only sibling). So my closest extended family is fairly small and very close. We spent a lot of time at each others' houses, lots of holidays together, and I had lots of sleep-overs with Wendy, my cousin who is only one month older than I am.

When I think of Uncle Norman and Aunt Helena,
I picture them like this—the way they were when
I had sleep-overs and played with Wendy.
(They were probably younger in this picture than I am now!)

Uncle Norman seemed like a big man to me–in an almost action-hero kind of way––when I was growing up. He raised chickens and lambs and a horse—maybe even a cow; he rode horses; he had the biggest, huge yard and garden I'd ever seen—practically a farm! He was in the army and he jumped out of airplanes! But what I remember the very most was when his family would come over to our house and while Mom and Aunt Helena visited, and all of us kids played, Dad and Uncle Norman would play chess for hours. Then, sometimes Uncle Norman brought his banjo over to the house; Dad would play the Ukulele and he played the banjo and they would sing "Ain't She Sweet?" and "Aura Lee." (I thought they were singing Loralee—a song just about me!)

Uncle Norman and Aunt Helena with all their children—
from left to right: Wendy, Nolan, Julie and Debora
probably in the mid-to-late 1980's.

I remember one summer Uncle Norman brought two lambs home and told Wendy and me that we could feed them. I slept over at their house a lot that summer—it was so fun to bottle-feed the little lambs and see them wagging their little tails as they ate. Later the lambs were gone. I asked Uncle Norman about it and he said they were in the freezer. I didn't believe him—people didn't eat lamb!  

Another time, I was at their house in the summer and Wendy and I were swinging on her backyard swing-set as high as we could go. As we were swinging forward, the swing-set fell over backward; we jumped off our swings and landed on our feet, free and clear, and thought it was great fun—and wanted to do it again. Aunt Helena was very upset and said we couldn't use the swings any more, and I guess Uncle Norman agreed because it was a long time before I saw that swing-set upright again.

I remember seeing this picture in Aunt Helena's family room, but I don't know the other man or the occasion.

Wendy with Uncle Norman,
probably in the last five years

Once, when I was . . . somewhere between eight and eleven years old, I was sleeping over at Wendy's house. They had a tandem bike, which I thought was the coolest thing! (I had never actually heard the term "tandem bike" until a few years ago. I just knew it was a "bicycle built for two," like the old song.) Wendy and I tried to go out and ride it a few times, but their neighbors had a couple of big Dobermans and those dogs were mean! Every time we tried to go out they would chase us down, snarling and barking and trying to bite us. Finally we gave up. But later Uncle Norman took me out on the bike. Sure enough, the big, black Doberman ran after us, trying to bite at our legs. I was pretty terrified, but Uncle Norman kicked out at that big dog and got him one in the jaw. (I know dog-lovers cringe at this, but that dog really was out for blood!) The dog took off with his tail between his legs, and Uncle Norman was my hero! I have always remembered that, and the exuberant feeling of my uncle teaching that dog a lesson, and the relief of being free from the terror of that big, bullying beast (who never came past the end of his own driveway after that).

Now Uncle Norman is gone and I am sad. Sad thinking about him, sad for my Aunt Helena, sad for my cousins, sad that he is not here any more. I know we will see him again, but right now we are all tender and the separation is hard.

I got the news yesterday morning, but seeing
the obituary today made it feel more real.

I love you, Uncle Norman.