Uncle Jay

Uncle Jay

Would be 98 today.

I think about him every passing year.

He had a weathered strong but gentle kind face.

A soft voice saying "Goochy coo" as tickled a babies foot,

and, "my little papooshka.."

any baby, he loved us all.

The familiar routine as I grew up,

Jay would walk in the front door,

Then stroll to the kitchen,

making contact with each of us kids,

He always made us laugh.

Once in the kitchen he sipped coffee with Mom, his baby sister, Dad

and whoever else participated in after dinner discussions.

Politics, current events, whatever.

If the phone rang, there was barely enough cord to talk behind the basement door.

or else you were the subject of the discussions.

He came to my nursing school graduation with my parents.

He was always quiet, a little mysterious, self educated man.

He worked the locks on the Mississippi River.

Married to a cool assertive (before it was cool) successful business woman.

They got us bikes. I used to ride out to their house to cool off in  air conditioning.

Plus they were good for a soda and they listened to my story.

I remember,

What a guy.