This entry started over a year ago as an endearing piece about my Uncle where I would attempt to paint him in a pleasant light. Quite honestly, I found it difficult to write when I was trying to write him as he would want to be seen, so I have decided to tell the whole truth instead of giving you the bits left when all the bad is gone. What I will not continue to do is pass on the skeleton of truth as it was done to me. Forcing me to figure out everyone on my own and then ostracizing me for telling the truth and forming my own opinions.
Let's begin by allowing you to read what I had originally began to write:
"My Uncle. How do I describe him? Picture a mix of Tim Curry and Chong. He was born in England and raised on the South Side of Chicago. Now, that might confuse some in the room because he graduated high school from Spring High South. Yes, he is that old. Most of you may know it now as Westfield High School, but back then it was Spring High South.
According to himself, he was already mentally grown by the time he got to Houston, Texas. He started hustling money at the age of 12 using his bike to ride around Ponderosa Forrest. He continued doing odd jobs around the neighborhood to make money to help his mother out while she was finding herself divorced and building a new career. He was never without a job, and was always plotting.
The way he put it, he was a quiet young man with a knack for being invisible, a mature understanding of the world, and a sense of humor. One of my favorite quotes from him is,
"They want you to act a certain way, think a certain way, or say these things....it's all bullshit, man."
I can't remember the conversation that led up to the comment. He was either talking about school teachers or society (One in the same, if you ask me), but then he leaned back and proceeded to put on the first stand up comedy special I had seen of George Carlin. I fell in love with that old white man. He told the truth, and so did my Uncle.
He used to tell me stories. His father told stories, so I always assumed that's where he got it from. Uncle's were different though. He wasn't telling me about how he lived through historical events. No. He was telling me about how he got away with growing his own tobacco in his mother's garden and producing his own cigarettes, or getting away with a whole delivery truck load of beer with his friends. I believe they spent the weekend drinking it all. One room, floor to ceiling cases of beer, and a pathway to move through it all. It was the 1970's."
All of that is true, but it's amusing because while he was portraying himself as this person for me I was seeing something different. I noticed moments of hypocrisy.
