2 posts tagged “uncle mike”
What family member do you most aspire to be like? Why?
Submitted by MalieKai.
My Uncle Mike. Because he inspired thoughts like these (originally published on the negro please blog, 01.06.03):
There were times when my Uncle Mike, my mother and I would walk together in the mall or down the street together. They each would grab one of my hands and we'd move along laughing and talking. They'd swing me, I'd fly forward giggling, the round puff of hair on my head lightly shaking with each move. People would stop us and tell my mother and her brother that they had a beautiful son, that in fact, we were a beautiful family. My Uncle would yell out to them, "This is my sister! How Dare you! Dang, ya'll nasty!" As the people, usually old ladies, shuffled away flustered and embarrassed we would laugh and laugh.
You can see where I get it from.
my grandfather's tears...
When Michael started looking for an apartment, I asked him, I said, "Mike, you don't have to leave here." He looked back at me and said, "Daddy, I'm 36 years old. It's time for me to get back out on my own. I can't be here forever." That was April 1995. December of that year, he had the accident and never left this house again...
One day, he called me and I went over to his apartment to fix something on his car. I walked in and it was filthy. It was shocking because it was so unlike him, he was so clean. I asked him why everything was such a mess and he said, "Whenever I pay a bill, I just toss it on the kitchen floor so that I know it's paid and I don't send it in twice." I told Pauline and she went over to clean up for him but I knew something wasn't right...
He called me and asked me to bring his spare set of keys to his office because he'd lost his keys. He stood at the door and said, "Daddy, I don't know what happened, they're just gone." I asked him what he'd done in the building and he said, "I'd just gone inside and come right out. I didn't go anywhere." So, I went in and talked to the receptionist and she said, "yeah, he just came in and didn't really go anywhere." Then she thought for a moment and said, "You know, he did go to the bathroom." I walked in the bathroom and there were his keys right there on the bathroom counter. He looked at me and said, "I don't remember going to the bathroom." We started up his car and it made a funny sound. I told him we should fix whatever it was and he said, "Oh, we don't need to fix that thing, I'm thinking about selling it." And then I knew something was really wrong. He loved that car...
a conversation and a revelation...
"I like your tattoo," I said.
"You know, I used to see him all the time," she said and didn't need to clarify who "him" was. "I always feel like he's watching over me. I wanted to do something to honor that, honor him, but I didn't want a man's name on my body. It's too hard to explain to people. So I thought this was the right thing to do."
"It's beautiful," I said, admiring the ink at the base of her lower back. It reads: Angel.
a niece's words...
You know that old house that burned down and all that was left were the steps? Well, one day, Mike was driving me and my sister back from somewhere and we passed that house. He stopped the car and got out and ran up the stairs and just started carrying on, "My house! My house! Oh lord, what we goan do?!" It was raining too and he was getting soaked. We were cracking up in the car. He then turned and ran back down the stairs and got back in the car and looked at us and said, "Oops, that's not our house. My Bad!"
We laughed all the way home.
a father's words...
One day not too long after the funeral, Pauline went out of the house. I was sitting right here in the kitchen doing the puzzle. She yelled she was leaving, I heard her keys and heard the car start and drive away. Some time later, the latch of the door unlocked and I heard keys rattle. I can still hear it now. I didn't even look up. I just assumed she had forgotten something and came back. After awhile, I realized that she wasn't in the house. I figured I must not have heard her leave again. So, she comes back awhile later and I say to her, "What did you have to come back to the house for." She looked at me and said, "I didn't come back, I was gone this whole time." Then I started thinking about the sounds. It was the latch unlocking and then a rattle of the keys. Now, when you enter the house, you don't hear the rattle of the keys because you're holding them in your hand a certain way, you've got to grip them to turn the lock. But Mike, when he would leave the house, he would unlock the door and rattle his keys for me to let me know he was going.
I guess he was the one who'd forgotten something.
He's the only person that I have ever truly idolized in my life. He could make you laugh with the turn of a word, a wry smile, or withjust the matter-of-factness of who he was. He was brilliant and vibrant and alive until he wasn't.
I miss him.
Michael Saunders died in October of 1996.
My name is Jason and this is for my grandpa. You may know him as Pop-pop, Daddy, Junior, Uncle Junior, Mr. Jesse or Jesse.The last time I was in Omaha, I spent a lot of time at my grandparents kitchen table working the puzzle with him and listening to his stories. I wrote many of them down but as I read through them thinking about what I would say here, I would get about halfway through one and think, "Nope. Can't say that in church" or "Oops, I'm not sure that's for mixed company" or "Nah, I don't want to put all grandpa's business out on front street." So, what I will share is a story about my grandfather and my uncle Mike...in his words:
One day not too long after Mike passed, Pauline went out of the house. I was sitting right here in the kitchen doing the puzzle. She yelled she was leaving, I heard her keys and heard the car start and drive away. Some time later, the latch of the door unlocked and I heard keys rattle. I can still hear it now. I didn't even look up. I just assumed she had forgotten something and came back. After awhile, I realized that she wasn't in the house. I figured I must not have heard her leave again. So, she comes back awhile later and I say to her, "What did you have to come back to the house for." She looked at me and said, "I didn't come back, I was gone this whole time." Then I started thinking about the sounds. It was the latch unlocking and then a rattle of the keys. Now, when you enter the house, you don't hear the rattle of the keys because you're holding them in your hand a certain way, you've got to grip them to turn the lock. But Mike, when he would leave the house, he would unlock the door and rattle his keys for me to let me know he was going.
It was then that he knew that Uncle Mike would always be with him.
Spirit endures.
You will always be with us. We will never be without you.
We love you.
Thank you.
-February 22, 2007, Omaha, Nebraska.
