Uncle Bub
My Uncle Bub passed away last night. I’m not really sure what to say about him. He was my grandfather’s brother, and I saw him most summers at his ranch for a few weeks. Him and his wife, Vernelle, would come down once or twice a year. Always in the spring for a HAM fest (amateur radio swap meet), and sometimes for Thanksgiving.
Bub was one of the the nicest men that I’ve ever been around, but he was no pushover. He stood up for what he believed in and defended it tirelessly. He was proud to be an American. He loved this country very much, and, like most men of his generation, volunteered for military service (Navy in his case) during World War II. He served for several years in the Pacific Theater. I’m not quite sure what he did, what ship he served on, if he helped liberate any islands, or anything like that. I do know that at one point he was assigned to a small island that was a munitions depot for raids that the front lines were doing. Part of his job was to guard the munitions depot, and blow it up if the Japanese managed to get their hands on the island. This never happened, so I guess he and his men did their job well. An interesting story that he told me that was one night an interesting bomb arrived at the munitions depot. He said that they were not allowed to look at the bomb (it was covered with a tarp), or do anything with it. They were to make sure that no one entered the building until the bomb was moved on to its target. Of course, they had to look at the bomb, and they did. It was unlike anything they had seen before. It was HUGE. A few days later the bomb moved on, and they thought nothing more about it. A few days after that World War II was over with. It wasn’t until years later that photos of Fat Man were declassified and published that Uncle Bub learned what it was that he was guarding. In some small way, my uncle was part of bringing the worst war the we’ve seen in a long time come to an end. I’m proud of him for that.
Bub was a Modern Renaissance Man. He was an avid hunter, fisherman, rancher, gourmet chef, archaeologist, Native American afficiando, and history buff. Like most people of his generation, he had a ton of stories to tell, and I loved listening to every single one of them. I just wish that I had been closer to him (geographically), so that I could have spent more time with him listening to his tales.
In the later years of his life, his chemotherapy had taken his hair and beard. Someone meeting him a month ago wouldn’t believe me if I told them of his bushy gray hair, and his full beard. His white teeth always shone out from between his whiskers, and he was very quick with that smile. It’s a smile that I’m going to miss.
While I was close to Bub, I’m not looking forward to the pain that I’ll see on the faces of Vernelle, DeNise, Reese, Jeremy, Jordan, Merideth, B. T., Melba, and the rest of the family. I’ve always felt more sadness for those around me than for myself in situations like this. I am going to go to his funeral this Saturday, and I’ll do what I can to be strong for those around me. Yes, I’m going to grieve, and those around me today at work probably don’t see it much. I generally do this in private. I have a 6 hour drive ahead of me tomorrow, and that will be my time to feel my emotions. I have a 6 hour drive back Sunday, and that will be my time to start my recovery. Don’t worry. My emotions won’t overwhelm me to the point that I won’t be able to drive. I’ll be ok.
There’s a question that James Lipton asks his guests on Inside the Actors’ Studio that goes, “If Heaven exists, what do you want God to say to you at the Pearly Gates?” I know that Heaven exists, and I hope that God says to me, “Welcome, Beosig. We’ve saved a table for you at the back, and your family is waiting there for you.”
I have one more person at that table now waiting for me.
Bub, I’ll see you at that table when my time comes. Say “Hi” to Papa and Granny for me, and save up some good stories for me when you see me. I want to hear them all.
