I always said that perhaps some, if not most of us Gen Xers are still stuck in our childhood. For us, nostalgia is STRONG, given the chaotic and uncertain times we’ve been thrust into recently.
As such, it’s hard sometimes to face that cruel reality that things change and life marches on; a fact each generation eventually deals with. Many of our favorite or notable places are gone; schools and businesses close, change or move, and entire industries have come, gone, and in a few cases came back again. People, notably our elders, such as uncles, aunts, grandparents and such, have also gone, leaving (hopefully good) memories in their wake.
My Uncle Ed was one of them. I was never super close to him despite being practically neighbors, yet I always saw him outside, enjoying a cigar or pipe and walking around town. Sometimes he’d bring me home from school or give me and my other uncle (his brother) a ride to the mall. Other times I’d run over to his house to pick up a batch of extra tomatoes that him and my Aunt Katheryn picked from their garden. He’d always be at church, and with his razzy-yet-powerful smoker voice he’d easily overpower the rest of the church with his singing. (Despite his love of pipes and cigars, he lived to his mid 90s!)
His immediate family would all congregate at their house nearly every weekend, cutting the grass to flawless perfection, keeping up the house and garden, and just hanging out.
Uncle Ed and Aunt Kathy passed some time ago, but their house remained oddly unchanged after the family sold it. Its been through a couple owners, yet the 1950s scroll-saw woodwork and fluorescent lighting could still be seen through the kitchen windows in recent times. It was definitely one of those houses that gave you that “warm comfort” feeling. In fact the only noticeable difference was really that the yard wasn’t kept to the level of perfection the family used to keep it at, and to be honest that would be a high bar to maintain!
As such, it was sad to learn this week that their house, one thats likely been around since at least the 1920s, is getting torn down. While its just a house, its another small piece of my never-ending childhood, that after so long you’d think would always just be there, going away forever.
Im not the only one though; my mom definitely has fond memories of parties and family events there, and definitely had some bittersweet stories today.
Last but not least, like many people in my family, my uncle was great with electrical devices, particularly motors, and had fixed the motors for my church’s bell towers in the past. He also had a sense of humor, and I wouldn’t put it past him to learn how to work the afterlife, so despite nearly jumping out of my skin, I just smiled when the storm door randomly moved/banged as I took pics of the house, despite not touching it. I think it was just one final “hey there Jefferson”; his nickname for me and a line I heard nearly every day.
