When I was an unhappy teen there was only one thing I was looking for…………………………..Escape. I would go to my “cool” Uncles place in the Sierras for the summer. And when I say summer I mean the entire 3 months. Pretty much the last day of school until the weekend before school started. There, he would go to work and I would sleep in, Then I would walk to the lake and tan and swim, alone. but I was fine. By the time I would get back and take a shower, he would be home from his hippie barber shop and we would bar b q. go swim again, go to some hippie mountain music thing. Go visit some dumb chick he was dating. Go pick up his son for the weekend and go on an excursion. Drive to natural mineral springs, where we were sure to find more hippies.(they kinda scared me a little) go camping, swim in the rivers. Get stoned and get some chocolate. things like that. He bought me my first pair of Birkenstocks, white with some flowers on them, I wore them for 4 years (just like a hippie)He didn’t have a tv, so we listened to a lot of music and read weird books about hippies. We studies astrology and star gazed. We once went to a music festival where I was the only woman(girl) wearing a shirt. no correct that. BRA. there were a few with shirts and had apparently not been wearing bras since the 60’s. I secretly tighten my straps and walked a bit more erect. Afterall, I was waiting for Foreigner or Journey to rip my top off for. Most of all we talked. We talked all the time, about real stuff. I thought he was kooky. He thought I was the most amazing teen ever. I reminded him of his mother. A kick ass bitch who didn’t let anything get her down. but I was down. I just had a great mask. I mean? 3 months in the mountains with a hippie Uncle. where were my parents? They didn’t care? they had their own things going and my dad, was a mean mother fucker. Happy to be rid of me, I grew up internally. My thoughts were mine, my feelings diminished and kept to myself, my hopes and dreams not even considered. They wanted me scrappy and that was the way I was headed. Until Uncle Mike made it safe for me to “talk”. I went every summer during high school. I was not allowed time or friends at home the family was a mess and I had to go. Escape to the mountains for clean air and someone to talk to.
Over the next 30 years, Uncle Mike was there. He listened every time I called. He made an effort to drive down just for a visit cause he missed me. He never missed, I mean NEVER a party invitation or any major happening in my life. He dressed like a hippie at my wedding and he bought my kids things from the flea market.(I’m a Nordstrom girl, hello). He always called us (my girls and myself) by our first and middle name. and always ran his fingers thru our hair. Healthy and natural was his hair motto, even if that meant grey (uh no thanks) he saw beauty in the simplest things. He thought it was great to sit thru a horrendous piano recital or school play. He was a great big cheerleader and felt honored to be part of my children’s lives. Even when their own Grandfather didn’t. He was more of a grandfather to my kids than their own grandfather is. (I’m really trying not to hate my Dad right now) I would call Uncle Mike whenever something hurtful happened in my life, he would just listen and say something like “I know there is a lot of pain there” “you’re so smart and strong” “give it some time and distance” ” you’re a bitchen mother” “I’m so proud of you , you remind me of my mother”
Uncle Mike died last week. He had a heart attack in his sleep some time during Memorial day weekend. He was found on Tuesday by a workman who was scheduled to come to his house. He was 64, young to me. but he had smoked pot his entire life and I think a heart can only take so much. I really don’t know. I saw him just a month ago. He had an appt in the Bay and as usual, made the effort to stop by on his way for a long afternoon. We went to the Mexican Grocery store, he was always like a fucking child in the store, going the opposite way. Please, I’m a housewife, I know the stores get in get out. don’t fuck around., but he was a great fucker arounder, I had a basket with our stuff ready to go and he was nowhere to be found. We bought Carnitas, beans rice veggies salsa beer avacado ranchero, homemade tortillas. Well, everything at this store is homemade. it’s fucking delicious. We came back here and just shoot the breeze and grilled carne asada and just visit. I got puffy over something and was stating my case in a very firm way. and he said ” I love you, you’re fucking awesome” “you remind me of my mother” cheers to Grandma!
I’ve spend a couple of days with his son, who is completely overwhelmed. Dana is 35, newly married and expecting his first child. He is a fire fighter and just a big tree of a man, standing 6’6″ and about 300lbs. His hippie parents were never wed and he grew up free and easy between two homes. He has an amazing support system in his mother and her husband. He has an older brother whom he is very close to. Was there anybody from my family? NOpe. Not one of Mikes brothers or sisters (4 of them are alive) nobody. Just me! Just ME! My sister came with me, I was afraid. I am the executor of the will and I didn’t know what to do. So we went to the Mountains. an d what a gorgeous place. the first day we just hung out with Dana, his wife and his mother. And told stories and laughed and cried. That kind of thing. At the end of the visit we opened the will together. The reality is, there were no riches. Everything goes to Dana, no problem, clear-cut. there’s a house on some land and nothing in the house is of value. Just sentimental. Mike had the most interesting home. built one room at a time,over a 20 year span, the south side completely windows, 10 ft high with a forest view. He had one wall with book shelves with the most bizarre books and nick knacks. It was a place you could stand and look at his shit with fascination. Like art, it was always changing and always interesting. I took 4 books. one on the Roman empire, one on astrology, a Van gogh and a chagal art book. I also took a buddha carved out of ivory. This is all that is physically left. the reminders of our life together. The best Uncle I ever knew.
Oh sure, he wasnt always perfect, like the one time he fucked my girlfriend when we were 20. I never spoke to her again and i didnt talk to him for a couple of years. And there was the drunken Thanksgiving in the cabin that was snowed in. ahhhhhhh, lets just say, I didnt speak to him for about 3 years after that too.
I want you to know that its been an entire week now and I have not heard one word from my Dad, Mikes brother. My Dad, who was not close with Mike and knew very well, I was very close with him has not called me once to see how I am. I can’t tell you how deeply I am hurt by this. It seems so wrong. A family should come together in these times. And he is leaving me out here to flounder on my own. I hate him right now. and I thank God for the support of my husband and children and sister even my mother who is not related (marriage ties were severed 40 years ago). I guess this would explain one of the legal documents in the will, stating his sibling were NOT to have ANY say or influence what so ever in his burial or service. While I’m not happy being in the middle of it all, It is easy to make his wishes clear. His cremation and burial wishes were clearly stated and there is no reason Dana and I can’t follow thru with them. For me?What is the real reason at 46 that I would expect my Dad to do anything differently than he has done before? Is it wishful thinking? Am I still a child? Why is it easier to hate than to forgive? I think he is barbaric, not calling me. Im crushed
I can hear his words now……………………..Stacey Renee, I know there is alot of pain there. but he is who he is. And you, my dear neice are strong and beautful and TOTALLY BOSS and I just love you.
his last actual words to me were this……………………….. scribbled on a piece of note paper on the final page of the will “Stacey, I love you and thank you for bringing so much joy into my life”
tennisbunnie 