Uncle George

Nice photo eh?
That's my Uncle George. He just died last week and his funeral is tomorrow morning. I know - sad - but he was 85.
He lived a good life.
I have two points to make about my Uncle George. First off - he was a simple guy. My Dad's older brother, he left school, as my Dad did, in grade 3. He moved to a piece of land, on a hill across the field after he married my Aunt Josie. It was quite a scandal back in the day but Josie already had an illigitimate son when Uncle George married her - and he raised him as his own.
They lived in the tiniest house I've ever been into in my whole life.
It was one floor - no basement. There was one bathroom, two bedrooms and a kitchen. The whole place is heated by the woodstove in the kitchen - to this very day.
Sometime in the late 1980s they added a living room.
I always thought of it as a shack rather than a house but I LOVED to go there. It had a water heater in the bathroom and a wringer washer - so cool for a city kid to see.
Anyway - I digress - Uncle George and Aunt Josie raised 4 kids and a granddaughter in that house. My Uncle George farmed for 58 years until his pension kicked and and then he just hung out for 20 years.
He was quite a character and like my father he talked to everyone he met, genuinely interested in what they were doing and their stories as much as telling his own.
Also like my father he wore dentures. (Important detail - trust me).
I can remember my mom calling me 20 years ago and telling me about going for lunch with all Dad's brothers and sisters. After lunch, Uncle George took out his teeth and licked them clean AT THE TABLE IN THE RESTAURANT to be sure he would get every last bit!
My mom was horrified!
She told that story well and often.
To me now it shows how much he loved life. He was a happy guy.
You can see that from the photo right?
Why?
Why is there a photo of my happy uncle George which was obviously taken in a professional studio and obviously taken recently? Do all people who are rapidly aging and could die any day have to have a portrait shot taken JUST IN CASE they die so that there is something to show in the paper and on line?
Why else would he have had that picture taken?
He would have had to travel from home (Embro - population 600). Someone else would have had to drive him since he hasn`t driven in a decade. Why would this happen´....
Just a thought while I think of my happy go lucky Uncle George.
I`m sure he`s somewhere entertaining my Dad!

vroom

I couldn't quite figure out how to re-start my blog after a couple of years of posting elsewhere. Should I legitimize my absence by explaining where my other thoughts have been or should I just ignore it and hit the ground running? I still have blog-thoughts - they just stay shuffled around in my brain and never get out.
Should I start by explaining the weird-weirdness that it is being an unemployed extrovert? I went from essentially talking for a living to talking occasionally, only when spoken to and mainly through social media. I feel like a snake that shed its skin.
If there was one thing about chatting at work that used to make me crazy it was the weekly order of conversation.
Monday and Tuesday were used to chat with people about their past - "How was your weekend?" "How were your holidays?" and Thursday and Friday were used to prep for the future - "Where are you going on vacation?" and "What are you doing this weekend?"
It never varied. And no - Wednesday's weren't silent - there just wasn't the formal structure around it.
*sigh*
I've said before and I will say forever that to the unemployed, everyday is Saturday. Or Monday. Or Friday for that matter.
Cup half full - cup half empty.
Add to that the kids have no summer camp or routine this year and its just a whole mess of weekend.
I spend a lot of time on twitter and facebook, linked in and email. That, to me, has taken the place of talking as human interaction. I hear a lot more opinions than I used to - but I don't really care as much about that anybody has to say. What do I care what Kirstie Alley has to say about Norway? Or Rogert Ebert's thoughts on Amy Winehouse. I don't - but I also probably didn't care what everyone did on their weekends.
I called my friend Doug last night to hear all the juicy details about his sister's wedding. I was genuinely interested in the details - and I loved hearing all about the outfits and the food and even the bugs. But, when I went to fill him in on what's been going on around the Fletcher home - he already knew 90% of it - he reads my facebook updates. That's just weird. I'm talking and he keeps saying "I know...." like he's bored.
Even when I try to talk now, I've got nothing original to say.
What's the solution? Stop using facebook? That's the only place I ever talk to some of the people I know. Stop calling people? I miss, quite honestly, hearing the sound of human voices.
Is there a balance?
Is there ever a balance?