I loved Uncle John. 

He was my favorite uncle, and I knew that if anything bad ever happened to my parents, he and Aunt Ann would take care of my brother and me. My mom assured me if, God forbid, that day ever came, her brother John would become our legal guardian. She had made it clear in her Last Will and Testament. I don’t remember when she told me, but as a young girl, I remembered feeling relieved because I wouldn’t have to live with strangers, or relatives I didn’t know.  

1.      I can’t picture John riding a motorcycle, but I have photos of him, and his wife Ann on their Kawasaki bikes side by side—helmets on and rearing to ride. The two logged many miles together. John looked like a biker with his bushy beard, aviator glasses, and his beaming contagious smile.    

2.      I wish I could recall all his advice on life, marriage, and work. Although some of his words left me, his voice stayed with me—a deep, smoothing bass. “This is your Uncle John,” he’d say when he phoned, as if I wouldn’t recognize his distinct voice. He didn’t call often. Once he called because we were both celebrating “double digit” birthdays. He turned 77, and I had my 44th birthday. He spoke slowly and listened carefully. That’s why he excelled in his work.

3.      John earned recognition as a “Pioneer in the Field of Social Work” by the National Association of Social Workers. He advocated for social workers being listing in the yellow pages when this practice wasn’t common or deemed acceptable. His achievements as a psychiatric social worker were many, and he continued practicing past the traditional retirement age. He counseled patients and helped family, too.

4.      Every time we talked, he inquired about visiting his sister, my mother. “Would she be up for it?” he asked. He asked because he knew travel would be a hardship for his sister, who lived 575 miles away. Our families vacationed together for years and provide a collection of wonderful memories.

5.      We also discussed books. Yet, I couldn’t tell you, his favorite book, only that he was a voracious reader. My cousin reported he read four or five books a week. He could summarize a plot and quote with ease excerpts from his favorite books. Mom told me John taught himself to read when he was four years old.

6.      Politics and policies. He made me feel comfortable expressing my political opinions, yet I I am not sure when we started discussing candidates. We agreed on the policy mistakes, political missteps, and protracted misery of our citizens. I can tell you who he voted for, but I won’t.

7.      A month before John died, I remembered he called worried because his doctor saw a scary spot on his liver. We were relieved after finding out that the spot turned out to be nothing. Benign. Yet, I don’t recall how many days we waited and were worried.  

8.       I also remembered the deep empty feeling, which washed over me after learning my favorite uncle had died of Covid on Sept. 30, 2021. My father had died August 14th and losing them both with little warning so close together felt wrong and unfair. My mother felt angry about how unfair and unjust her brother’s death was because he took every precaution during the pandemic. He ended up in the hospital because he fell at home. His two sons were unable to be with him and say goodbye because of the hospital’s pandemic protocol. I don’t dwell on the end of his life but on how well he lived his life.

9.      How old was John during the Great Depression? I remember he recorded his experience for the New York Times about how his family helped hobos who knocked on their door. He experienced the Depression as a young boy, the middle brother with a younger sister and an older brother.