A Photograph of me without me in it

A Photograph of me without me in it
A photograph of me without me in it

Friday, November 3, 2017

In Memoriam: My Dear Uncle Tommy

My uncle Tommy died yesterday after battles with two cancers. This piece is in his honor and for his wife, my aunt Mary Ann, his kids, my cousins Lori, Jeff and Kenny, and the extended family and friends who loved him. He was a kind man, a man of much love and faith, and I know we will all miss him.

The last time my partner Ann and I visited Tommy and Mary Ann at their home in Davidson, North Carolina, he drove Ann and me to a coffee shop to meet with a previous professor of mine. As he drove, he remembered driving to his first dates with Mary Ann. “On the way to meet her,” he told us, “I would get so excited and nervous that my palms would sweat and my heart would race. I would say aloud over and over, ‘I’m going to see Mary Ann! I’m going to see Mary Ann!’” As he recounted the memory, he tapped both hands on the steering wheel, excited just to remember it.

Usually the family storyteller, Mary Ann sat quietly in the passenger seat, watching him with a soft glint in her eye that had lasted through three kids, several cats and at least one dog, and fifty-four years of marriage. She smiled softly, a dimple creasing her left cheek. “Dear…” she said lovingly.

Mary Ann and Tommy called each other “dear” so much that one friend wondered aloud if they knew each others’ names.

In one of my favorite moments on another visit, Mary Ann was telling a story that seemed to veer wildly off topic. “Dear,” Tommy said, “the train has left the track.”

Ann and I say this to one another still, stretching the dear into two long syllables as we try to echo his line.

On that recent trip, Tommy was preparing for the Sunday school class he would be teaching on an Old Testament story. Animatedly, he told us that this story foretold the story of Christ, and was in fact a reference to Christ’s coming.

“Well,” I said to him, “Some people think that.” Tommy and I had different ideas about politics and religion. If I understand it right, he was a Biblical literalist and a social conservative (though he and Mary Ann were always loving towards my partner Ann and me.)

“No. I’m pretty sure it’s fact. Pretty much every scholar agrees,” he countered.  

“What about Jewish scholars?”

“Well,” he said, “You have a good point there.”


That’s how he was. Kind and humble. Love and family always came first with him. One day when I’m wise, maybe I’ll be as kind and humble and loving as he was.

3 comments:

  1. Mary, that story described Dad (and Mom, too) so well! I felt like I was right there with them while the story took place. That's exactly how they were, and humble is one of the words that describes him best.
    Yesterday during dinner at the hospice house, I was telling stories about Dad, and his "punishment" of making us sit in the bathroom came up. We kids stressed to the others that it wasn't a big deal but more of an aggravation when we were sent to the bathroom, but then I had to tell about the time you were sent to the bathroom, and how you couldn't believe Dad would do such a thing as to make you sit in there. It was funny and heartwarming to think of those childhood memories, and how a quirky regular part of life for us was actually very offensive to someone who wasn't used to it! It was always fun having you around and living out the clashing yet complementing cultures of our lives.
    Thank you for remembering Dad in such a wonderful way in your story!
    Love,
    Lori

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  2. I think I've said this already, but have been trying to keep up with emails/texts/calls, etc so much that I could be wrong...

    Just want to make sure you know, Mary, that my dad loved you and your family with all his heart. Thank you for being such a blessing to him over the years.

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  3. Very nice post.really I apperciate your blog.Thanks for sharing.keep sharing more blogs.

    แตกใน xxx

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