Goodbye, Uncle Jim
Aug 29th, 2005 at 3:46 pm by Susie
My Uncle Jim died Friday. He was 84. The quietly sly Scotsman, a retired TV repairman, was apparently making lunch when he had a massive heart attack and died. A neighbor found him on the kitchen floor after my cousin tried to reach him and couldn’t.
He’d been feeling a lot better lately. It took everyone by surprise.
Aunt Joan, his wife, died about 10 years ago. What I remember about them is, they seemed to have so much fun; they were the first grownups I knew who seemed to really like each other. They kidded, they made puns. Their house was filled with science fiction paperbacks, board games, various unfinished projects and every copy of MAD magazine ever made. Their five kids were all very, very smart. (Still are.)
I loved going there.
My aunt was interested in everything. She was one of those women who stirred dinner with a book in her other hand, a cigarette hanging from her lips. She was a tad casual about housekeeping, it’s true, but so what? She was smart, funny and incredibly well-read.
I always thought of them as Nick and Nora Charles from the “Thin Man” movies. When Uncle Jim died, I hope she was there to greet him with some smartass quip - because I’m sure Uncle Jim was ready with a snappy comeback.
that about said it all, Susie–I always thought of them as a vaudeville team–
Hi Susie–
Thanks for the nice words about Dad, but I do have to correct a couple things. I know the last name sounds Scottish, but his family came from Ireland. And do you believe, it’s actually been a bit over 12 years since Mom died. And now they’re both gone. Also, it looks like he had just had lunch when he died. As you’ll see, I’m pleased about what he was able to have. My sister and I were able to join a CSA– community supported agriculture. On the Saturday before he died, we went to a ‘day at the farm’ to see where the food comes from. When we told Dad we were going, the first thing he said was ‘oh, get some white corn.’ He was always one to like some good corn or tomatoes– in seaon. He despised what he called ‘cookie cutter tomatoes’– bred for uniform size and for travel– not for taste. So, on that Saturday, we were able to pick some tomatoes from an organic Amish farm in Lancaster County, and to buy some of their corn, and bring them to Dad the next day. According to our brother, apparently Dad had just finished lunch with lettuce and some of those tomatoes when he died. He hadn’t eaten too many of the corn, but according to Jim, Dad was ‘eating the hell out of the tomatoes.’
You’re so right about Mom and Dad liking each other. They loved each other of course, but they also seemed to really enjoy each other’s company too. I think you’ll see that when you see the tribute pamphlet from the funeral home. heh….. And yeah, Mom wasn’t too big on the housework… but the five of us ALL learned how to read. I still recall being called to the Mother Superior’s office when one brother was caught in school with a Mad magazine. I guess I was supposed to set an example or something? I don’t know why I was called down too. Anyway, I kind of recall standing there in terror, and I think there was some surprise with the good Sister when we told her that Mom always bought Mad magazine. Heck, we were reading, and I guess that’s what Mom mainly cared about. Or else she thought that Mad was one of the more intelligent things we could be reading. But then I read ‘Millie the Model’ too…..
Gotta add my say. Uncle Jim was my dad. I remember when I was a teenager, my dad and I would ride the 47 bus down to the old city on Sunday morning. We would go to church at Old St Joseph’s or Old St Mary’s then we would wander around the old city or to Penn’s Landing after it was built. Sunday breakfast would be an ice cream cone at the stand next to the Second Bank on Chestnut St. We’d wander around for a few hours and get the 47 bus north to go home. He would always let me have the window seat.
When we were on the bus he would point out different things like where he lived and went to school as kid. What his neighbors were like and that he would be late for school even though it was only a block away. He’d also point out things that aren’t there any more like the Stetson hat factory. I learned city history and didn’t even know it.
I also didn’t know then how lucky I was. Now I see kids on the bus with their parents. The parent with headphones on or the kid with a handheld game. The parents don’t realize what an opportunity they’re missing by not talking with their kids on that bus ride. I have many great memories of my father that SEPTA helped facilitate. I’m not fond of public transportation but those bus rides were priceless.
You might remember me. I’m that ghost from your distant past, from a land far far away (67th Street).
When I got the call about Uncle Jim, I felt a great shift in the universe. One that told me that a free spirit was released from his earthly bonds to explore that which we could only dream of. Guess their love of Sci Fi kinda rubbed off.hahaha
My memories of both Uncle Jim and Aunt Joan were pleasent memories from my childhood. I remember several trips to their house and finding the treasures that were accumulated there. The one thing that I will always remember is their smiling eyes. Something that always showed that no matter how life treats you, a smile will almost always get you through. I sometimes wish that I had more of a chance to get to know them better. They seemed to be always so full of life. I remember one trip back that I had a chance to talk to them even briefly. I remember how they would always take such interest in whoever they were talking to.
They were two of the best. I hope that they both find the answer to that age old question..who finally wins out, the white spy or the black.
Dear Jim,
I wish you God speed on your journey to the next stop, whatever you imagined it to be. My few muddled memories of my early youth are punctuated w/a few early recolections of visiting your family at your Levitetown home. A long bus ride, a warm welcome and a huge backyard. And we had a big one , I thought we had the biggest one.
After that , I recall that I indeed climed aboard a stationary platform headed for space & beyond.
Past the Mad magizines and sci-fi books I didn’t read, I remember usining old TV parts to build an I’m not quite sure but it seemed to work, at least in my imagination.
This is probabily one of the building blocks that taught me to use my imagination when I needed a solution for a problem that eluded a fix. I think they call them issues now.
This has helped me in gaining the position I hold today. Thank you.
The rest of my memories are kinda warm fuzzies that reside in my heart.
Your spirit rides on. Send me a postcard from whereevr you land, I’d like to visit.
Love,
Thom
XXOO