While everyone else tried very hard to be politically correct and say the right things and spare people’s feelings – at 72, Carl realized that about the only good thing about getting old was that you don’t need to give a flying f… about anyone or anything.

So, whenever possible (which was always) – he always spoke his truth.

He was husband to auntie, great-uncle to Ella and he was the Say-It-Like-it-Is-Uncle to Emma.

And when he speaks, everyone listens.

BY the messy optimist

Giggles

Uncle and auntie don’t have kids. In the privacy of our own one-on-one conversations I knew that they were disappointed. But both of them were also practical. In our days we didn’t have options the we way do now auntie said matter-of-factly. No IVF, no surrogacy, adoption was brutal.

And, in hindsight, maybe it wasn’t a bad thing that uncle didn’t have children. He just did not have the patience and had made his displeasure for the tiny ones very clear.

But he did tolerate the older ones. Like me. His childless state was probably why uncle thought of me as his surrogate daughter. I would, of course, never have the guts to tell him that to his face but deep down I felt I was the daughter he was pretty sure he never wanted.

But, I know that he liked me. Very much. And tried to influence me to walk in his path. And while I tried very hard to walk in my idol’s footsteps and and always failed…he was still proud of me. As proud as he could get.

But that day…he looked very disappointed when he saw me. He knew I had gone out to meet my friends (yes – I have a few of those, you skeptics) and hang out with them and their three-year-old. Knowing how I took after him and can barely tolerate other humans – much less children – he’d been eagerly waiting for me return and bitch and moan about the suck-fest said evening would have been for me.

Instead, I walked in with a huge smile on my face and cut short uncle’s gleeful waiting look.

Me: Uncle! Cuteness Alert. So, you and I have both had experiences when some of our fellow American friends simply don’t get British lingo?

Uncle: (nods)

Me: Like the time our fellow Americans look weird when we use British terms like ‘flat’ for ‘apartment’ or ‘boot’ for ‘trunk’ or ‘post’ for ‘mail’? My friend Jack cannot get over how Brits say ‘aluminium’ instead of ‘aluminum.” And the way they pronounce ‘schedule’ with the shh sound instead of the sk sound? Forget about it! But I was NOT prepared for this cuteness overload when my American friend’s little daughter giggled (and continued to giggle) when she heard that I sometimes call my mother, ‘Mummy!’ Not mommy, but mummy. I got addicted to her giggles rather quickly and kept repeating ‘mummy’ over and over again. And the child just kept giggling. Cute, right?

Uncle: (irritated look on his face)

Me: (pretending not to see his irritated face and pontificating instead) It was so wonderful! We forget sometimes that a child’s giggle is the best sound out there.

Uncle: (shaking his head over and over again) So speaketh the person who has never babysat anyone in her entire life.

Babies

Me: Oh…f…it! Since I’m in a mean/judgy Judy mood anyway…may as well go for broke.

Uncle: (sighing) Finally. A niece after my own heart. I’m tired of you gushing and mushing.

Me: So…you know how there are cute babies?

Uncle: Not really. But, OK.

Me: And then there are some…sorry to say it…but some babies? Not so cute. Am I right?

Uncle: No arguments from my side, sister.

Me: And then there are these little, tiny kids who have adult-looking faces. It’s odd. That’s all.

Uncle: So, now do you understand the torture I am put through when family members bring their brats and drop them on my lap and look at me expectantly? And want me to ooh and aah and gush over how cute their little monsters are? Just because I am old and doddering doesn’t mean I have some magic key that I can open to know how these these little things function. Not to mention I am too old to muster the energy to make nice with these little things. All I can do is try not to throw up, right?

Me: (rolling my eyes) Right. So this is all about you. You’re the one who is suffering here?

Uncle: (with a very straight face) Exactly. So, you get it!