I received the news Friday morning that my Uncle Howard passed away. Uncle Howard was my grandma's brother, so my great-uncle. To my kids, he was a great-great uncle, a rare creature indeed to many. To see my kids' reactions to the news would have destroyed anyone's idea that a great-great uncle isn't really family.
Uncle Howard had three children and a grandson, all of whom he loved very much. But that big old heart of his had room in it, and he loved his sister's family also. Grandma died in 2009 and Grandpa in 2012, and he said to a niece, "Well, someone has to watch out for you kids now." Last March, he stood at the gravesite with a cane as his niece was buried. A man of great faith, he was not afraid to fight for what he thought was right. That included singing hymns in church loudly, with the words he remembered as a kid.
As we mourn, we laugh, however. Uncle Howard was the king of mis-pronunciation. His ability to butcher words brought the same look to his sister and wife's faces, and numerous bouts of laughter to the rest of us. My favorite of all has to be when he went to the gastroenterologist and pronounced it "castrologist." I couldn't resist and asked my cousin last night if anyone was going to contact the "castrologist" and let him know.
I wrote back in August 2018 of my frustration with so-called professional genealogists and the one who tried to tell me my family wasn't my family. Well, some of us had DNA done for the fun of it. Uncle Howard was one. When I did it, the closest matches which were found for me were in this order: my half-brother and his kids, then Uncle Howard. The service didn't know we were related or how and says he's my first cousin. I think it hilarious. Take that as a warning, you by-the-book-the-records-are-never-wrong people. You never know when your great-uncle is your first cousin!
Uncle Howard had three children and a grandson, all of whom he loved very much. But that big old heart of his had room in it, and he loved his sister's family also. Grandma died in 2009 and Grandpa in 2012, and he said to a niece, "Well, someone has to watch out for you kids now." Last March, he stood at the gravesite with a cane as his niece was buried. A man of great faith, he was not afraid to fight for what he thought was right. That included singing hymns in church loudly, with the words he remembered as a kid.
As we mourn, we laugh, however. Uncle Howard was the king of mis-pronunciation. His ability to butcher words brought the same look to his sister and wife's faces, and numerous bouts of laughter to the rest of us. My favorite of all has to be when he went to the gastroenterologist and pronounced it "castrologist." I couldn't resist and asked my cousin last night if anyone was going to contact the "castrologist" and let him know.
I wrote back in August 2018 of my frustration with so-called professional genealogists and the one who tried to tell me my family wasn't my family. Well, some of us had DNA done for the fun of it. Uncle Howard was one. When I did it, the closest matches which were found for me were in this order: my half-brother and his kids, then Uncle Howard. The service didn't know we were related or how and says he's my first cousin. I think it hilarious. Take that as a warning, you by-the-book-the-records-are-never-wrong people. You never know when your great-uncle is your first cousin!
