Gone are the days of the railroad cowboy, a renegade approach to escaping a mundane life. But in my childhood, I knew and respected a fellow who kick-started his life in just this way.
My dad’s uncle was a dashing, dapper gentleman when I came to know him. Sam and his wife visited often, though they did not live near us. The two would carve out an entire day to make a visit to our farm, and Sam wanted to see all that had happened on each of our various farms since his last visit.
Sam was always well-dressed, often in a sport coat and wildly colorful tie. He would open the car door for his wife and offer his arm as they slowly made their way to our door. Esta wore a dress with matching hat and heels, accessorized in colorful jewelry, and she expected a hug and a kiss from each of “the children,” as she referred to us. After she (painfully!) pinched our cheeks and told us each how much we had grown, our job, thankfully, was done.
I remember telling my sisters that Aunt Esta wasn’t a soft hug like our mom and our other aunts. “It kinda hurts, even,” I said.
My sisters grinned, knowing what I did not. Dressing up, for this lady, meant wearing a corset that surely was like being dressed in an armored truck.
As I grew older, I was fascinated by this great-uncle who had not followed the same path as most others I knew. How did he get from his farm boy roots to a fellow who held a white collar job? I questioned how a man could live without a pickup truck, instead driving a brand new, always shiny car each time we saw him. He was an uncle but not a father, yet another way in which he broke the mold.
After his wife died, Uncle Sam came to visit more often. If we were showing our Holstein cattle at the county fair, Sam was in attendance. He was very proud of our father, and his affection for each of us was clear.
He taught me how to fish, and he kindled my love for it. He had a calming demeanor, as though he had all the time in the world for the person lucky enough to stand beside him on any given day, and I had never met a man like him.
I had so much to learn, and my dad’s Uncle Sam took a liking to me, which gave me the opportunity and wide-open permission to ask questions of this adult, something that nurtured a healthy curiosity in me. I have often thought it just might be Uncle Sam who set me on the path to wanting to become a human interest storyteller through my writing.
Uncle Sam was unique, and he was wonderful and had a story just waiting to be told.
Next week: Part 2
