Uncle Howie and yet another non-writing entry

Today we loaded the whole gang in the car, picked up my Mom and headed to Oneonta (near Cooperstown...you know, the home of Abner Doubleday and the Baseball Hall of Fame) to visit with Mom's older brother, Howie.

I haven't seen Uncle Howie since my 12-year-old daughter was an infant, but he hasn't changed a bit. Still short, still fat, still long-winded. But he was so happy to see all of us. I feel guilty for not going to see him before now, for being "too busy" to take the trip out to visit.

The poor guy is all alone. He never married. He lived with my grandmother until she passed away in 1989. He took care of her for many years. My grandfather--an alcoholic--died before I was born, so Uncle Howie took up his slack.

Uncle Howie enlisted in the Air Force during WWII and afterwards worked on fighter planes at Grumman, first as a machinist, then as a materials manager. He now refuses to fly.

Uncle Howie loved to fish and bought a house on a canal in Massapequa (Long Island, NY) so he could keep his deep-sea fishing boat in his backyard. Serious fishermen sought out the fishing poles he meticulously crafted by hand in his garage. Strangers regularly made outrageous offers on his 1965 blue Mustang convertible. He spent a few weeks each fall hunting in the Catskills until his softer side took over and he no longer had the heart to shoot.

Model cars--hundreds of them--line the walls of Uncle Howie's office in shadow-boxes he custom-built himself. The mint coins he's collected for years are individually mounted, labeled and recorded by age and by value. He puts every photo in albums that he categorizes by family member. He has ancient family photos, Christmas card shots, and recently e-mailed pictures all laid out and marked with who, what, where and when.

Seeing Uncle Howie today made me realize how much more there is to him than just the fat man of my memories, the one lying on the sofa, talking back to the TV and laughing at little nieces landing flying jumps on his belly. With no wife or children of his own, he fills the void with hobbies and photos, looking only for someone to lend an ear, a voice or an occasional hand.

I'm not alone in letting busy-ness get in the way of keeping Uncle Howie alone. hile I can't do much about making others give him the time of day, I can give just a little bit of mine...an e-mail to say hi, a photo of the kids, a surprise care package...to remind him that he does have family, that he's not alone, that he is loved.

I hope I'm not too late.