Meeting Great Uncle Clyde

MEETING GREAT UNCLE CLYDE

We were dressed properly, my sisters with hat and gloves, and me in my Sunday suit.
Although plastered down, my hair still needed that special application of spit to control the
cowlicks.

The air was already hot that morning as we climbed into the Model A. Dad gave the
crank a few turns and the car vibrated to life. We were off for the sixty mile ride to Scales Mound
to meet Great Uncle Clyde.

I was six and had never even been to Scales Mound. Except for a couple of Sunday trips
to swim at Lake Geneva, I hadn't been out of the city. It was depression time and money was
hard to come by. We spent it wisely.

The ride was hot and dusty, and we kids fought for a window seat so we could hang our
head and arms out the window to cool off.

"A kid had his head out the window like that and a car coming by knocked it right off."

"Really, Daddy?"

"Really."

We responded by pulling our head in when we saw a car coming while daring each other
to leave it out until the last possible second.

Hours later we arrived at Scales Mound and stopped at a big fancy house with lots of cars
parked in front. Trying to get past a crowd on the porch, we received a barrage of hugs and
kisses and tears.

"Oh, how the girls have grown."

"So this is little Dickey. Isn't he quite the little man."

"Say hello to your Aunt May, Dick."

We finally made it past the people and entered a large room with rolls of fly paper
spiraling from the ceiling.

(So that's Uncle Clyde. He's an old guy. Not very nice looking. He seems stern. Brown
suit, glasses. There's a fly crawling on his hand. Mom says he's dead, guess he can't brush it
off, Maybe I could - - -.)

Mothers hand came down and grabbed my arm. She always knew what I was thinking.
Part of being a Mother probably.

(His face and hands are covered with a tan paste. He's not hot and sweating like
everyone else in the room. I wonder why he died? I wonder why we have to come and look at
him? He can't talk. I have to go to the bathroom. That fly's on his nose now.)

* * * * *

(Why in the name of Christ? This is my final day in the sunlight, and they have to bring
those three kids in here. Who the hell are they to ruin this atmosphere of love and respect. Oh
no, he sees the fly on my hand. He's going to slap it. It'll ruin the make up. I'll spend eternity with
a blemished hand. Thank God, his mother stopped him. Why it's little Ida. I remember years
ago when she sat on my lap at the picnic and said "I love you Uncle Clyde." Sweet Ida. So you
mothered these three demons to ruin my last day. God it's hot. I wish I could sweat. Now that pesky fly is crawling on my nose. Stay away, boy. I suppose before this is over they'll be running and screaming.)

* * * * *

Mother pulled us away. She had tears in her eyes. We went to the folding chairs and the
five of us filled a full row. She worked the handkerchief out of my pocket and had me blow. I told
her I had to go to the bathroom, but she said I'd have to wait.

* * * * *

(It's a man's last day --- life was hard. Worked the fields from the age of eight. Married a
women who was determined to whine me into the grave. By God, I out lived her. Inherited the
farm and near worked myself to death trying to make it pay. Didn't work. I lost the farm and what
little else I had. The daughter treated me all right. Others didn't give a damn though, for a heavy
drinking old geezer. Doc took my leg last year. He knew I couldn't pay. I think he fixed it so it would pain me
to the grave. Would think a man could have the peace of a decent funeral service without being
plagued by those youngsters.)

* * * * *

A lady came in and sang, then a minister talked for a long time. Sweat was running off
my nose, and I had to go to the bathroom. After talking and reading the bible and praying the
service finally ended. People seemed to forget Great Uncle Clyde and got up and headed for the
door.

As we left the aisle things were moving to slowly for me. I pushed my sister with all my
might and rushed by her.
"Mommy, Dickey pushed me," she cried out.

Screaming she got to her feet. Her knee was bleeding and she started after me. I yelled
in fear and excitement as we knocked over folding chairs while running from the room. I could
hear her shouts close behind me.

* * * * *

(I knew it. I knew it. Oh God. Please! Dignity and respect.)

Then amongst our screams and chaos the coffin was closed and Great Uncle Clyde left
the world of light.

END

Story ID:	693
Written by:	Dick Dunlap (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Story
Location:	Scales Mound Illinois USA
Year:	1935
Person:	Great Uncle Clyde