WHEN I got too eager at the dinner table as a kid, I always used to hear the same warning, "You'd better watch yourself or you're going to end up like your Uncle Henry." Uncle Henry’s waistline
and wisdomI took the warnings as predictions that our hearty appetites would carry us to early graves.
For sure, my Uncle Henry has always had a trophy waistline. He reminds me of the actor William Conrad, who played "Cannon." Ask him about it and he'll tell you he's on the "seefood diet -- see food, eat food."
I had dinner with Uncle Henry, Aunt Esther and my mom on a trip to Los Angeles last week. He just turned 80. The waistline was still there and he's still talking about going on a diet one of these days. Those who warned me about ending up like Uncle Henry were unable to join us for supper. They're dining with the angels.
I became lost in memories as I realized I was with the only people left on this Earth who knew me as a small child. I had forgotten that their pet name for my sister Marilyn was "Monyamee." Just the mention of the word brought up long-buried visions of the adorably shy little girl who grew up to become the capable and assertive woman I know today.
Uncle Henry and Aunt Esther are true soul mates. They saved well and departed their city jobs in their 50s. Their health has mostly held up and they've enjoyed a quarter century of rewarding and inseparable retirement.
They've been anchors in my life. They lived just around the block from us and put in a swimming pool long before pools became commonplace. My brother, sisters and I were there every summer day.
When I was certain I could be the starting first baseman on my Little League team if only I had the big Gil Hodges autograph mitt on sale at Roscoe Hardware, Uncle Henry sent me on an errand to the store with a sealed note. It told the manager: "Give my nephew David the baseman's mitt of his choice and charge it to my account."
When my friends got new Honda motor scooters, all I could afford was a World War II-vintage Cushman. Uncle Henry spent several weekends taking the engine apart and reconditioning it piece by piece.
He mainly talked to us about education. He was the most educated person in our family, having taken some community college courses. He was curious about everything and loved knowledge. He had a special affinity for the arts and traveled the world with Aunt Esther to see the great works.
He visited me in Washington, D.C., when I worked there and was eager to see a Dali piece at the Smithsonian -- I think it was the "Last Supper." We found it hanging in one of the museum's business offices behind a counter where clerks busily ran around.
I was appalled that such a magnificent work was placed in such an awful spot, but Uncle Henry just marveled at the painting. He didn't even notice the clerks.
WHEN Uncle Henry calls, he always starts the same way, "Davey, I want to ask you something." Usually it means he wants to tell me something.
His interests have turned to politics in recent years. He's a follower of Ross Perot and thinks Rush Limbaugh currently possesses the greatest mind in America -- second to his own, anyway.
He has little use for newspapers and tries to bait me into arguments about it, but I respect him too much to go at it with him like we used to. I just want to turn out like my Uncle Henry -- even if it means making a little room in my head for Ross and Rush.
David Shapiro is managing editor of the Star-Bulletin.
He can be reached by e-mail at editor@starbulletin.com.
Volcanic Ash runs every Saturday in the Star-Bulletin.
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