Writing about people is hard. Remembering them is easy. But I think the memories begin to fade and I think about the kids, the generations that follow without the history and without those poignant memories and their ability to remember someone fades fairly quickly. So I am writing these memories. No one may care but I am going to hold on to a piece of them... a little longer. Being here mattered. We are all different because of those who were here.
My Uncle Herb was a bigger than life kind of guy. Where ever he was, he created a kind of energy that let you know he was in the room. But it was never selfish energy. It would be great to think about what things were like for him growing up. Mom has stories and we need to tap into those stories so they are remembered.
He was my mother's oldest brother, younger than she by 2 years. I imagine they were close growing up. Their home was one where survival was tough and they had many tough times that children should not have to endure. But what doesn't kill us makes us tougher. There are pictures of Herb as a teen, dashing and incredibly handsome. I always knew him with no hair. But Mom says he started balding young... in his teens. I imagine balding as a teen boy was not easy. He was a big guy who could look intimidating but to me he was a teddy bear.
We might have met when I was a baby. But my first real memory of Uncle Herb was driving to San Francisco or Oakland in our Dodge station wagon and picking him up at a bus/train station and bringing him back to our house. I was probably 6. He sat in the back seat with Diane and I. We were not too impressed with having our day carved up. And he smoked. It was not unheard of back then. But I had never been around a smoker before. My annoyance was probably visible because as we drove into the driveway he asked what I was irritated about.. and I said, "I don't like smoke". And he said something like I should have told him sooner. I think Mom was apologizing for my pertinence. The 50s were different. People who smoked were given ashtrays to smoke in the house even if NO ONE ELSE SMOKED! It was just the way it was. So Uncle Herb was not a jerk for smoking and in fact he was quite the gentleman for caring that his rude little niece did not like it!
All my mother's siblings came and lived with us for a time when they graduated from high school. Our house was the right of passage for them. I remember them singing the hip songs of the day and having dates. I treasure those years when Diane and I were the little princesses to play with and talk to. Later they all had their own families but we loved them first!
Uncle Herb did not come after high school like his sisters, but upon his leaving the service after being stationed in Alaska. Later his wife, Joyce and baby girl, Renee joined him in San Jose and they set on making a life for themselves. I remember family celebrations, helping them move (my Dad helped EVERYONE move for my whole growing up years!), late night card games, and birthdays.
The best years with Uncle Herb were my teenage years. Joyce's sister, Donna came to live them (like my aunts came to live with us) and so their household was very busy. Donna was 4-5 years older than I but she was so sophisticated. Her hair was always done up and she could do anything she wanted to.
One of those years, Herb decided to buy a ski boat and we began to go camping almost every on the weekend in a very desolate place in the mid valley of California called New Hogan Reservoir. We would camp.. big groups together.. and setup our vacation trailers in a circle and our parachutes raised high to keep the relentless sun off. Each morning we would all get in the boat and ride to some distant little island and picnic for the day. The land all around was barren, dried grass and no trees and hot hot sun. At night we were so far from city lights that the stars were magnificent. The water was incredible ... deep and blue and cold. It was a very large and deep reservoir. We would water ski. I remember skiing so much that the next days my arms and legs would be so painfully sore from holding onto the ropes. Those were the summers of endless sunburns. Perhaps those summers contributed to Uncle Herb's struggle with melanoma 20 years later.
Water skiing is kind of a selfish sport. Only one person is enjoying themselves.. that's the person in the water behind the boat (occasionally 2 could be towed at once). When skiing you could stay behind the boat or shoot the wakes (sometimes jumping clear out of the water) and swing from one side of the boat to the other. There were unexpected tumbles, sometimes losing skis. Someone taught me to slalom one of those summers and I remember building up to it by dropping a ski off when the driver of the boat least expected it! There has to be a driver and there has to be the spotter to make sure the driver knows that the skier has fallen. Other than that everyone else just has to wait patiently for their turn. Uncle Herb was most often the driver of the boat... mostly because it was his boat. We all tried to be patient and hoped that our turn skiing would be the longest one of the day.
But the big memory here is Uncle Herb water skiing. The image of him trying to ski will stay with me the rest of my life. Uncle Herb is a big man. He always seemed to have a bit of a pot belly. But whatever he was made of was not fat and it did not float. When Uncle Herb was in the water.... his body took him down... dead weight is a real word. And that just means that it was more work for him to get out of the water to ski behind the boat. So the driver would hit the accelerator (HIT IT was what we yelled when we were ready)... and the boat would take off, engine whining and throwing fumes... working harder than it did when any of us were skiing. And Uncle Herb would be behind holding onto the rope for dear life and the water would just be pouring over his body...12" flowing over him... and he would be partway in the water and partway out... 8" pouring over the top of his bald head... shimmering as he struggled. No matter what he did and how long he held on and tried to stand up behind the boat.. the ski rope held tightly in both hands... he could not get out of the water. Once we used a more powerful boat and I think somewhere during those years he might have gotten up once. But my Uncle Herb was the most tenacious of people... he tried and tried and worked and worked and he would not give up. It was kind of the way he was.
He was a man who measured success by the money in his pocket.. or the money that was GOING to be in his pocket. My uncle never seemed to want riches for himself. I think he always wanted to be the great provider (I think in previous generations they were the great hunters!) and to give his daughters and wife what would give them pleasure. Because he wanted so much to be successful, Uncle Herb often took risks that most of us would not take. His tolerance for risk was big. (I am a chicken...so I think the awareness of his risk taking was very real to me). AND Uncle Herb got burned many times .. by trusting the wrong person, believing the wrong line, and every time he got burned he would get knocked down and he would turn right around and be ready for the next promise around the corner. There was misery involved but I was always so in awe of Herb's ability to believe in people. I am not sure I want to believe in the next get rich quick scheme.. but I want to have the faith in people that he had.
We spent many hours together talking together.. ok.. I listened because my uncle liked to talk...:)... and I truly feel like I knew who he was. My Uncle Herb had experienced sadness in his life and I know that he was a man who would have appreciated some "do-overs". He was a man who loved his family. He had beautiful daughters whom he treasured and was proud of. He was often torn between being there because he cared and staying away because he thought he messed up.
I heard my Uncle hurt and in pain, listened to his regrets and fears. His passion was big and his hope was endless. The very next thing he was working on was going to make him wealthy.
As his health was failing, Uncle Herb was still in denial. I spent an afternoon with him when he had been out of the hospital just a day or two. They sent him home from the hospital with about 8 prescriptions. He had thrown them straight into the garbage. He said he thought those prescriptions were the pharmaceutical companies trying to get him addicted. He always went his own way. He believed that whatever vitamin he was taking was going to heal him. He had no doubts whatsoever.
A few weeks later I got to spend the evening with him before Hospice began giving him the heavy meds... those hours were probably the most poignant hours of my life. He was a beloved uncle and he wrestled with his regrets and his failed relationships. But his relationship with his Father was the one he had found. In the end he wrestled with his faith and looked to answer the questions that tormented him his entire life. He was just a man who wanted to be loved and wanted to love. I still miss him. DKU
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