The Look of Love - Uncle Paul

This is the new 70!  Get down Uncle Paul!

My father left our home, the first time, when I was about four years old.  I remember it very vividly.  It's kind of like I'm watching a movie scene.  I see little girl me, broken-hearted, tears streaming down my face as my father packed his things into Mr. Jimmy's station wagon.  Over the years he was back and forth. Back for a few months, gone for a few years.

As you know, my mother's family is from Alabama.  It is our 'home'. So like most city kids, I took an annual summer time trip 'down south' and because I was blessed, we actually would make a couple of trips.  See, Aunt Polly and Uncle Paul never left Alabama.  They anchored, and continue to anchor our family here.

Uncle Paul is...everything.  Just a lil ole bundle of lovewrapped up in love.  He and my Aunt Polly married very young, way before I was a thought, so he's always been in my life.  Uncle Paul was so much a father to me, I never missed what I was missing.  I trailed him like ducks trail water.  We laugh about it today but I was probably a big hindrance to his 'good times' back in the day.

Me (love the face), Uncle Paul & my nephew DJ
walking at the Relay for Life event.

Uncle Paul is a quint-essential southern man.  Or at least, my idea (and ideal) of a Southern man.  He worked hard, played hard, loved hard, laughed hard and back in the day, he drank hard.  Oh yeah, and drove hard.  See, in a small town like Rockford that's about all the entertainment there was.  He and Aunt Polly have two daughters.  My cousins say he was hard on them.  You know, discipline wise.  I, on the other hand, they say was spoiled.  Well, perhaps.  I think I just came along at the right time.  See, they are respectively 8 and 10 years older than me and the next cousins after me are respectively 8 and 10 years younger than me. So I had a long stretch as 'the baby' in the family.  (Insert devilish grin)  Also, I was just a good girl all the time.  (Eyes batting innocently)

Another great Christmas.

Maybe because they had him year round he was just their 'Daddy'.  But Lord knows, once I hit Alabama I became Uncle Paul's permanent shadow.  He, like many southern men, always drove a pick up truck.  Once I came to town, that truck couldn't crank without me running out the door trying to catch Uncle Paul.  He could have pulled off and ignored me, but I don't think he ever did.  "I wanna go with you, Uncle Paul." "Come on, Poo."  Now see, Uncle Paul was likely going to hook up with some of his buddies to talk loud, tell lies and drink beer - Budweiser to be exact.  Lil ole me was clearly going to put a dampening on those activities.  But he hardly ever turned me away.  He just postponed the drinking and the loud talking would have to be without the colorful cussing.

Uncle Paul loves his truck and his wife.

Uncle Paul used to fish a lot, so, of course, I wanted to go fishing too.  I remember our first fishing trip as clear as day.  He wouldn't really let me cast off. I was small, he was probably right.  I was gonna hurt one of us and tangle the line.  We were at a pond.  It was hot and sunny.  We had our cooler.  I had Cokes, he had Bud. We caught a few.  He showed me how to loop them on a line secured at the edge of the water so they stayed alive and thus, fresh, until we were ready to head home.  I'm sure it was far from his most pleasurable fishing trip, but it's a memory I treasure.  We fished a few more times until around age 12 when my girl genes kicked in and I suddenly became repulsed by the worms.

Alyssa love her Papa! That's the oldest grand-daughter.

Over the years, we never grew apart as you might expect, we just found new things to share.  For as long as I can remember, Uncle Paul  has had a garden.  I probably got my love of growing things from him.  My freshman year at Auburn, home one weekend in the Fall, Uncle Paul showed me how to pick (or crop) collard greens.  Aunt Polly showed me how to cook them and freeze them.  What they do that for!?  They came home from the mill one night and I had been in the garden picking and in the kitchen freezing up tons of greens to take back to school.  Shoot, with a few inexpensive neckbones and some home made cornbread, me and my roommate could eat GOOD off those free, fresh greens.  Me being in the garden on my own tickled Uncle Paul.  He said, "Poo, you are the countriest city girl I've ever seen!"  He was right and I was proud to be so.

Supporting his bride at the annual Relay for Life event.
Sometimes blurry pics are awesome, they still capture a
person's essence.  See that smile.

Since I've returned home and settled into my own life, Uncle Paul and I have gardened together every season.  He helps and advises me.  I watch and observe him.  Oh sometimes he'll let me into his garden on my own but you've got to know just how to walk through his greens and tomatoes.  My cousins don't fool with him.  They say if  you show any interest in it he will worry you to death about that garden.  This is true.  We debate a lot.  Well, it's never really a debate.  I tell him some new technique I'm trying and he tells me why it won't work.  I don't argue.  The man is 74 years old.  Who am I to tell him anything?  He comes by with something new he's discovered all the time.  Aunt Polly always says, "Paul, leave that girl alone.  She don't wanna hear about your beans!"  Oh but I do.  I enjoy our 'debates'.  Sometimes, when he figures out that while I am listening to him, I'm not doing it how he suggested...he'll just take over in MY garden.  LOL.  I think it used to irk me...then I realised, shoot, Uncle Paul is doing ME a favor.  Besides, he has been gardening for about 60 years, he's probably tried everything I think is so new and exciting.  But honestly, I'm just so happy to have his conversation and company, I don't care what he does or how much he fusses. That's my Uncle Paul.

Uncle Paul with the ladies of the Missionary Circle at church.
Aunt Polly is the President and Uncle Paul is always there to
support.

Uncle Paul is known in the community for his kindness and generosity.  He shares everything he grows.  He plants way more than he and Aunt Polly could ever eat because he likes to bless others with fresh produce. He is the Senior Deacon at our church.  In addition to tending his own house and substantial yard, he maintains the church grounds as well and will get upset if offered money for his services.  He is faithful in everything he does.


Since I have been ill, he has offered to drive me to an from appointments and wait on me just to make sure I'm safe and not alone.  I have a hard time asking for help.  I tend to feel like I'm bothering people or being a burden.  Uncle Paul told me a few days ago that I can't be burdening him, he OFFERED. True.  LOL.

I could sit here and type for days telling stories of my Uncle Paul, how he makes us laugh until we cry.  How he is so spoiled by and devoted to my Aunt Polly, his wife of over 50 years.  How he is so spry and sharp and full of energy at 74.  How I realise how much my husband Phil reminds me of him...I guess I married my 'dad' after all. How he won't eat anybody's cooking but Aunt Polly's.  His daughters' and Aunt Polly's Sis being the ONLY exceptions and only on special occassions...but generally, its Polly's or hungry.  How I know my cousins all think they have a special relationship with him and they are his favorite (though I know for a fact that I am).  What I really wanted to impart here is how much I think of him as a great man.  He would never say so.  He just feels like he did what he was supposed to do in life.  But these days - who is doing what they are supposed to do!? Who is being a man and not complaining about it?  Who is taking time with children making sure they feel special and teaching them life skills?  He has always been a beacon of light in my life. He has taught me with the way he lived, what true love looks like.  For forty years, even when my own Dad was absent, I have always known I was loved.  The family even jokes about it...Nancy and her Uncle Paul.  "You know Paul gonna see about Poo."   Yep, that's MY Uncle and I love him like tomatoes love the sunshine.

Uncle Paul is what love looks like.

With his 'baby' daughter, Paula.   Never too old for Daddy's lap.

Unknown Number

It's Been A Long Time...

I've always had a problem with commitment.  Didn't marry until I was 36 if that tells you anything.  No reason this blog should be any different.  But today is a new day and I'm starting again.  Isn't that the beauty of life - every day, every hour, every minute and second that you yet breathe, is an opportunity to start again.
Miss Pat
This morning I got a call from an unrecognised number.  I usually don't answer these but was feeling frisky so I did.  What a blessing.  It was my friend, Miss Pat.  Miss Pat and I met a few years ago when we started working on the same day at the local Home Depot.  She is still there.  Miss Pat is like no one I've ever met.  She's at least 6 feet tall with prestigious salt and pepper, thick, curly hair, and striking, crystalline blue eyes.  She's soon to be 70 years old and has more energy than most 20 year old men I know.  She's a veteran and has raised Arabian Stallions for competition.  She still has horses though they don't compete.  Now, she just...has them.  I mean, I don't know much about keeping horses other than it's expensive and time consuming.  But I assume that people who have them enjoy riding them or using them to work land or cattle etc.  Miss Pat does none of that.  They are just her horses and need caring for and as she hasn't found anyone she can entrust them to - that's what she does.  She once told me that's why she went back to work - to be able to provide for them.

I find her fascinating.  She can tell me stories about her childhood in Alabama and how her grandfather owned land and had many sharecroppers.  How they would kill cattle in the winter and provide enough meat for everyone on the land.  She's not afraid of snakes because her grandfather showed her how to hypnotize them by circling them and bop em on the head to kill em.  She builds and repairs fences on her land - by herself!  She can out-smoke the Marlboro man.  I've never heard her cuss. She's had a husband and a son.  She lost her son years ago.  She is what we call, 'good people'. She is honest to a fault.  Like my Aunt Polly, I know that if I ever asked Miss Pat for counsel or advice she is going to have my best interest at heart - she "ain't gon' tell you nothing wrong" as we say down here.  She's a rarity - a genuine person.  She was also a living lesson for me.  She is a Sixty-Something year old white woman raised in the Deep South, yet nothing in my spirit has ever found a note of prejudice in her.  And that's an assumption I still make...that white people (and black for that matter) of a certain age are without a doubt prejudiced.  Maybe as the times have changed, they have learned to cover it up or keep it to themselves - but undoubtedly it shows.  Miss Pat taught me that I was wrong.  She is my genuine, loving friend.

She called me this morning because we haven't spoken for some months.  I've been under the weather and as a result somewhat isolated.  It's hard for me to get around so I stay home a lot.  She's buying a house! Great news.  Wanted to share it with me. Can't wait to have me over for tea and lunch.  Can't wait for us to get together and go eat Chinese again.  She's been meaning to call and check on me but...life.  I was in bed when she called, at an hour when I should have been well out of the bed.  Her call lifted my spirits so much.  I remembered that I do have friends, and I am loved and cared for.  I've been feeling inspired ever since and just wanted to write something.  I couldn't figure out what to write about so I just went with today's events and an ode to Miss Pat who is definitely a gem in my Southern life.

I hope everyone has a Miss Pat in their life.  A friend who makes you feel good about yourself.  Who encourages and supports you, who chastises and corrects you.  I'm so glad I answered my phone.