I remember uncle Glen being called a bit slow, a loser and many other things, none of which are complementary. Neither dad, mom nor other uncles or even aunts ever talked much to him or about him. The only thing I knew about uncle Glen was that he gave up boxing & took up a dreary job to marry the girl he loved.
When I was in high school I got into trouble with a pair of bullies, rich brats with a coterie to boot. My first altercation resulted in injured knuckles punching out one of them. And my parents were more furious than anyone else, more disappointing was them apologizing for my behavior. When a few weeks later I got into another fight and again my parents were called, I concocted an excuse that they were out of town for a week and my uncle was taking care of us till they returned. My uncle got called. And of the three uncles I have, I thought uncle Glen would be the safest.
I went to uncle Glen's apartment and requested him in the arrogant way teenagers tend to address their relatives, that I needed him to come and meet my teacher because I had gotten into a fight with the class bully. I was surprised when he asked.
"Can you handle him or do you need help?"
I don't know why but I blurted out the truth. "I am scared that they will gang up to harass me. And even if I complain, the teacher will not believe me, if I fight, I get into more trouble."
"Let's see if I can talk to them as well."
The next day uncle Glen met my teacher and after listening to her admonitions he asked quietly.
"Would a studious girl fight a group of boys unless she is provoked?"
When the teacher started to say that they had caught me punching and screaming in a brutish vulgar manner. He stood up and thanked my teacher for being patient and understanding and left the room with me in tow. This gesture of trust in my good judgement connected me to uncle Glen for life. But that day he did one more amazing thing. We went to the school parking lot and confronted the bullies. Uncle Glen first told them in his quite way to stay away from me and predictably they started to smirk and joke about it, about me and about him.
I never saw the knife, he was that fast. But in the next moment two of the boys had their shirt buttons cut off and falling to the black top. This made them stop but uncle Glen had more. I still did not see what he was holding but he struck with his other hand at the tank of the motorbike one of them was sitting on. There was a bang and the tank had a serious dent in it. That was the end of my bullying problems.
After that incident I started to go to uncle Glen's apartment whenever I had to get away from my house or when I was upset. When Phil's parents had insulted me and asked me to leave their house and their son, I retreated to uncle Glen's and we talked for hours before I was calm enough to go home. When Phil decided to defy his parents I took him to uncle Glen's and he was happy to feed us dinner and give Phil advice about finding a place to stay. He was one of the few among my friends and relatives who was happy and excited about me marrying Phil.
Uncle Glen died yesterday and was buried next to his wife Selina. He could have had a career in boxing, he was a state champion and he had left that to marry Selina knowing that she had stage two cancer and was likely to die in a couple of years. And only now have I come to know that he met Phil's parents many times and kept them informed of all the developments in our lives. He had mortgaged his apartment to pay for our honeymoon cruise. It was uncle Glen who convinced my father to help Phil start his new business.
If uncle Glen was such a loser why are there so many people at his funeral that nobody seems to know? Why can't I stop crying? Why are Phil's parents attending? I think though he did not have much money, uncle Glen was a pretty successful man.
PICTURE CREDIT: PIXABAY.COM