An Uncle's Monkey

Monday January 17th, 2011 - Fox Lake, IL

   In all the warped and twisted adventures that add up to my life, the one tangible nugget I can rescue from the smoldering rubble heap and cherish is that I’ve made and continue to make positive progress. I’m not where I want to be, but I’m definitely not where I was.

     I’m learning painful but potent lessons in many areas because I’ve been making a lot of tough but worthwhile decisions I hope I can be proud of later. I’m taking a lot of lumps as well, but hopefully that’ll be a means to an end. The harder the lesson, the better learned.

   Today is the 70th birthday of my Uncle Dave, aka ‘Hogie’. He got that moniker as a kid because my grandmother told me he ate a lot and it was short for ‘Hungry Hogan’. Hogie and my father were their only two children, and they were about as different as can be, or so I thought. In the end, it looks like they’re going to leave behind a very similar legacy.

   As a kid, I always loved Uncle Hogie. He was very funny and always had a new joke to tell my grandpa, which I used to try and eavesdrop on myself. Eventually, I was included and it’s where I got most of my best material for school. He worked for years as a deputy court clerk at the courthouse in Milwaukee, and his office humor stash was world class.

   I remember seeing mimeographed copies of a lot of the stuff that gets passed around on the internet today back in the ‘70s. I asked for copies and he would make them from time to time, and it kept me at the top of my game. I always had fresh joke sheets for school.

   Hogie was also a great cook, and home made corned beef was his specialty. He also had a few other secret dishes up his sleeve. I went over there a lot as a kid, and enjoyed it a lot more than visiting my father’s den of biker debauchery. I thought Hogie was the greatest.

   I remember he used to play chess with me as a kid and totally kick my ass. He showed no mercy, and used to taunt me after he won. I never gave up, and for years I’d play him and say I was going to win someday, which I eventually did. I don’t remember how old I was, but it was in my teens when I finally beat him for the first time. Life changed then.

   I think he was genuinely pissed off. I don’t ever remember playing him again after that one lone but sweet victory. I felt like I knocked out Muhammad Ali, and that’s when my passage into adulthood started. Party over - no more free rides just because I was a kid.

   Hogie was married to a real whipper whom my father affectionately referred to as ‘The Tarantula’. Nobody got along with her, she was a real nut case. She had a way of pooping everyone’s party, and never would let Uncle Hogie chase the dreams he had of opening a restaurant to sell his delicious corned beef. He never did give it a try, and that’s a shame.

   They had two kids, my cousins Leah and Brett. I’ve have had a pretty good relationship since childhood with both of them, and in fact they’ve been closer to me than my siblings. I’m older and always tried to be nice, as sometimes my siblings weren’t very nice to me.

   Our family is one huge dysfunctional mess like most others, but ours runs about as deep as any I’ve seen. We’re rotten to the core. There isn’t any closeness. Everyone is into their own thing, and I find most of them people I don’t want to hang with on purpose. It sucks.

      No more than a few random people get along in our family, and it’s a crapshoot when it comes to who matches up with who. I always thought Hogie was in my corner, and I used to trust him with anything and everything. BIG mistake. It wound up biting me in the ass.

   Since I was raised as a son, my grandpa included me in his will when he died for a third of the share along with my father and Hogie. That didn’t sit well with anyone, and I could feel the jealousy from my father who never tried to hide it. Hogie was a little bit slicker.

   One day, he had me sign some ‘tax papers’ that I stupidly agreed to do. It amputated me of all claims to the will, and I got a small payout. I needed money badly, but I had no idea I was in for a third. I found that out years later, way after I’d signed those papers. I trusted Hogie implicitly, and that’s where I made my mistake. I learned the hard way about life.

   I felt totally used by Uncle Hogie, and that hurt for a long time. He and my aunt bought a brand new SUV and moved to Missouri, or so I heard. Whatever. She died just a couple of years ago, and now he’s all by himself. I heard he’s had cancer on and off for years and the whole thing is just a big mess. Why does life have to be this way? I don’t understand.

   Uncle Hogie is 70 today. His father or brother never made it that far, but I hear he’s sick and not doing well. I don’t wish him any ill will, but I have no desire to talk to him either. What would I say? The damage is done. I have my own problems. He’s on his own now.

   That money would have come in handy over the years, but quite honestly I wasn’t ready for it and probably would have pissed it away like a drunken sailor. I’m not angry about it anymore, and I’m actually having fun with money I’ve earned on my own. If he needed it, so be it. My father too. But neither one did anything good with it. It’s all been a big waste.

   My father is now dead, and can’t hurt me anymore. Uncle Hogie is close, and he missed the boat too. He and Brett haven’t spoken in years, and he’s all alone waiting to die with a laundry list of unfulfilled dreams. That’s sad, and I’m doing all I can to make sure I don’t end up the same way. I work every day to make good choices so I’m not like my family.

   I don’t think I’m better than them or anyone else, but I do think I have different ultimate goals. I want to achieve my full potential, but be a good person doing it. I want to give my all in service, and not end up dying with nobody caring. That means I didn’t touch anyone while I was here, and that’s a total waste of a life. I’ve wasted enough already. Let’s GO.

   I’m sure I’ll get a call in the not too distant future that Uncle Hogie died. I won’t cry, as I didn’t when I heard my father died. I’ll use their lives as a sad example to do exactly the opposite, and hope I can do some good to someone somewhere. I’m not perfect, but I also am not my father or Uncle Hogie. If I do make 70, I want life memories I can be proud of.

Posted via email from Dobie Maxwell's "Dented Can" Diary