Sweet Little Lies

As a child, I was very fortunate to have a relationship with all of my uncles. My dad had three younger brothers and I like to claim that I was everyone’s favorite. Doesn’t every kid? Mark in particular, my dad’s youngest brother, always made me feel like I was his number one. I have so many memories of this man who was always full of life and love. Here are a few of my favorites:

Our family drove from Oklahoma to Illinois to visit one summer and I knew we were heading home the next morning. I cried and cried, knowing that I wouldn’t get to see Uncle Mark. I begged him to sleep in the same room as my brother and me and he promised he’d come back at his own bedtime. Hours later, I woke up to him snuggled next to me with a stuffed animal I had never seen before. He had found it in my Grandma Betty’s basement in a box of his old stuff and wanted me to have it. His name was Bobo and I cherished that ratty bear for years. In fact, I’m sure I still have him somewhere in storage. Whatever needed to be done to make his Lizzi smile, he did it.

He worked for an auto auction for years and had to keep a disposable camera in the cars in case there was ever an accident. When I was little, however, he told me it was his “pretty girl camera” and he would snap pictures of pretty drivers on the highway. I’m pretty sure it was used for both.

One visit to Oklahoma, he made flat tires (a DELICIOUS family recipe) with my mom, effectively coating our entire kitchen, and himself, in flour. We had his favorite jazz album on the stereo and he sang and danced with us all evening.

For years, he would talk in this funny voice and ask me to repeat after him, “Peeecan Piiieee.” I would giggle and say I couldn’t do it and he would pester me constantly until I would. It wasn’t until I was in my late 20’s when I watched When Harry Met Sally for the first time and saw the seen with Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan that it clicked what he had been doing all those years. “Waiter, there is too much pepper in my paprikash, but I would be happy to partake of your pecan pie.”

The song Sweet Little Lies by Fleetwood Mac always reminds me of him and brings me back to a moment when I was about 6 years old. It was a rainy, dreary fall afternoon in Quincy, IL and it floods back every single time I hear that song.

He worked at a bar called The Flamingo (I think?) when I was a kid. I was convinced it was an ice cream shop and the taps were for soda. J He gave me an entire roll of tiny flamingo stickers that I rationed for years.

When I was 16 years old, he got me a train ticket to visit him in Chicago. He took me shopping and bought me my first build-a-bear and Godiva chocolates. We went to a little Italian restaurant called The Rose where he flirted with the waitress, giving her some of our chocolates, and told her I had just turned 21. She brought me a fruity drink and winked at me. She knew his game.

At my wedding, he danced with me to a Frank Sinatra song, spinning me and singing in my ear. Every time I see the scene in What Women Want where Mel Gibson sings and dances with a coat rack, I think of Mark.

As a child, and even as a young adult, I had no ideas what demons he faced. As kids, we assume that everyone we love is happy and healthy and that they will be around forever. He was always the happy go lucky, loving, doting uncle that could always make me smile. His hugs had the power to heal broken hearts and his words could lift your spirits. When I was in college and struggling as we college students did, I would get a letter in the mail from him with a little money to help with rent. The envelope would have his writing all over it with sayings like, “Mr. Postman, hurry! Send me to the prettiest girl in Oklahoma!” But deep down, he had his own battles. Life has thrown him some punches, the most recent being the loss of his voice due to cancer. I will never hear him say “Peeeeecan Pieee” in the same way, or listen to him attempt his best Ole Blue Eyes impersonation, but he still gives the best hugs and I can read his lips and know exactly what “I love you” looks like.

UPDATE: Not even 24 hours after I posted this story, my beloved Uncle was found unresponsive in his home. I tried CPR, but the paramedics assure me there was nothing I could have done. He was already gone. The loss I felt then, and still feel to this day, is astronomical. He will be forever missed by those that loved him, including my children, who have spoken of their Sparky daily since his passing.