eh? what say you? It has come to that time when the hard work must begin if I'm am at all serious about having everything I want out of life. Putting aside the false question of one or the other, when it's really both that I want. So, to have both, the hard work must be accomplished. To be present - can I swim?
It has been quite some time since I've welcomed all of you back into my head and my life. Some things have changed, some have not. My uncle died. That sucks - he was my mother's brother, my Uncle Bruce, the only brother among three sisters. He was married to Anne, a wonderful woman that he met later in life after being what we all thought would be the eternal bachelor. She came into his life with three nearly grown children, but he took them on as his own, and they apparently took him on as their own. Uncle Bruce was my favorite uncle - he taught me much about what it means to be a man, simply be example. He had a strong, gentle presence, projected considered wisdom, and lived with compassion and fairness. He taught me how to drive stick when I had just gotten my learners permit. He took me out on the highway for the first time, much to the consternation of my mother. He always took time when we were together to check in with me about my career - he was a Civil Engineer as well, and I took great pleasure in his attention to my professional well being. My cousins and I would often play him at Monopoly when we were younger. Despite what always appeared to be an insurmountable lead over him, he always found a way to whoop us all in the end, laying waste to board and our Monopoly money finances. He and I would arm wrestle whenever possible, until I turned 16 and finally beat him. He was the one, who, when we were all younger, would allow all of us to crawl up his body and hang off of his arms as he would run around the backyard until we all collapsed in a heap of giggles and smiles. Uncle Bruce loved the outdoors - just last summer he hiked the Grand Canyon rim to rim in one day. He taught us all to ski, taking time with each of the cousins to guide us down the slope, showing us how to snow plow, skiing backwards in front of us as we went down a particularly treacherous slope, making sure we were ok. He was a big man - 6'3" tall and probably 250 pounds, but he had tiny dogs - Min-pins - three of them, and he adored them. He was a man to be admired, to be looked up to, to be patterned after. I did all three, and still do.
Uncle Bruce died October 11th, 2006, out on the golf course, of a pulmonary embolism. As my sister said, "he went out with his boots on". He was 55 years old. I have great joy to have known him, to have been a part of his life. The world is a slightly dimmer place without him. My life is a much brighter place for having had his presence. I'm sorry you didn't know him, because I think you would have liked him. We all need more good people in our lives. And he was a good person.
