Say Uncle!
Posted at 4:54 AM on March 12, 2009
by Dale Connelly
(44 Comments)
It came to light in yesterday's blog that a number of Radio Heartland listeners grew up on farms or had farms in the family. Donna, Julie, Barb in Blackhoof, Cynthia in Mahtowa and Amy in St. Paul reported specific (and idyllic) memories of being a kid free to explore an agricultural wonderland. We were told about fresh air and Ford tractors, flower gardens and fowls riding the tire swing, fun loving uncles and fish in the stock tank.
(By the way, if you Google "stock tank" you get a selection of farm stores.
If you Google "stocks tank" it takes you to the gloomy world of Wall Street.
The agricultural stock tanks of Cynthia's and Barb's youth were full of bullheads. Tanking stocks drove the bulls from our financial markets. Odd.)
But what I'd like to hear more about today are those loopy uncles!
Uncle Clarence who named the cows.
Uncle Ernie who let Barb drive the tractor.
And Cynthia's uncle, who threw her in with the bullheads.
What was his name? Uncle Dunk?
Be they farmers or financiers, it seems that uncles have a license to act weird and to encourage children to do things that annoy their parents.
Are there any more eccentric uncle stories?
Or just some eccentric uncles?
Comments (44)
I don't have any funny uncle stories, but would love to hear a Justin Townes Earle song, I have only heard bits and pieces of a couple. If you could play "Mama's Eyes" sometime between 6 a.m. and 6:30 a.m. whenever your able to schedule it, that would be great.
Thanks, Lynne.
Justin Townes Earle it is!
When I was growing up, my mother's brother was known as Uncle Wink (childhood name -- we all call him Art now). He's a dentist so my sisters and I were never allowed to be afraid or say bad things about the dentist. He also made the best fudge ever... he would stir it and stir it and stir it, after all the rest of us had pooped out. AND, when we had "standing on one leg" contests, he ALWAYS won!
oh, don't get me started! but i'll stay to two:
my husband's Uncle Jim would, every time he came in the house, grab Steve by the ankles and hang him upside down. !
my Uncle Clarence, who named the cows, LOVED to ring the doorbell and would do so from the moment he arrived until we answered the door. several years ago our doorbell was rung a la Clarence, and even though we were hundreds of miles apart i said "it must be Uncle Clarence" - it was somone else. and a few hours later i got a call that Uncle Clarence had passed away.
Uncles (and Aunts) were important parts of our young lives.
Oh I have an uncle story...Uncle Charlie was my Grandmother's brother. During the depression, Uncle Charlie was an expert at laying on the floor of the tavern and challenging others to pull his head off of the floor. He had a strong neck, as the story goes, and he won lots of free spirits this way.
This is only one Uncle Charlie story but I look forward to meeting him in heaven.
my uncle's a farmer too. he's the closest thing to a real cowboy that i know. he has a handlebar mustache and thinks dressing up means wearing your stetson. he's also an auctioneer and loves to sing old cowboy songs. he's nearing retirement age but i don't think farmers ever retire. at least my grandpa didn't; after he turned over the farm to my uncle he continued to help out well into his 90s.
I have no colorful uncle stories to share, but maybe we should hear Waltzing with Bears, since we are on the subject!
I agree with Elinor, this discussion cries out for/demands (Uncle Walter) Waltzing with Bears!
was just thinking about Uncle Walter too!
I seem to recall that John Prine's family encountered the bottomless lake on the way to Uncle Jake's. Just a thought.
All aboard for Uncle Walter!
Good Morning All-
Our family was a little unusual, in that my siblings and I had 2 uncles for playmates. (My mom was the oldest of 10 children and these 2 were the youngest). They lived in town and loved to come spend time on the farm with us. On one occasion, my brother, Barry and Uncle Scott took their BB guns out to the woods, hid behind trees and shot at each other. I'm happy to report that nobody shot an eye out and they both grew up to be reasonably normal adults!!
So, my poor Granny Paschal was **a saint**! She assumed mothering my mom and her 3 brothers before having a boy of her own with my Grandad. Of the 3 uncles, Uncle Andy was THE BEST! He taught us how to say "Hello, How are you?" and count in Chinese. He sang songs with us and taught us his infamous version of, "I Gotta Booger On Ma'Finger 'N I Can't Gettit Off!" with our fingers a'shakin' and our mom and granny howling in abhorrent disgust!
aahhhh, the memories....
:)
My Great Uncle Ellis is gone, but not easily forgotten. I had many experiences with whoopie cushions, thanks to him. He was always telling jokes like- "Did you hear about the grandmother who bought some condominiums because she wanted to stop having grandchildren?" He was famous for grabbing and kissing the nieces (run!) and giving the nephews horsebites until they yelped! Big man with a big heart, though. One Christmas he gave me MY OWN whoopie cushion!
There are too many stories of my Uncle Oscar aka "Junior" -- he teased and tormented and played practical jokes on me most of my life. I have a recording he and I made in 1948 on a relative's home recording device...cardboard with vinyl? coating...with murder stories, complete with 5 year old screams and such appropriate sound effects. It's scratchy, but I can still play it.
And so I learned from him, much to my niece and nephews regret, to tease and torment. My nastiest was to feed rabbit to them on Easter Eve and tell them its name was Peter.
When I was a kid I was grateful on a regular basis that I was a girl - because the boy cousins in our family got their hair cut at least once a year by our great uncle Inky (Mom's uncle - though he was a great guy). Seeing my brother shorn at the beginning of each summer with his "Inky cut" (a short buzz cut) made me happy to live with my Pixie 'do...
When I was a kid, every Christmas, I had to get my finger pits checked by Uncle Pete before dinner. This was a sort of mandatory ritual that the adults loved and left us kids a bit confused.
These days Uncle Pete writes. He recently came out with his first novel.
http://www.thefugitivewife.com/
oh, what great stories! Cynthia, i can't believe that you've kept that record safe over the years - wonderful to have that tangible memory. and Donna, my Uncle Clarence loved whoopie cushions too! thanks everyone for the fun
the only other song i remember with "Uncle" in it is "Wicked Uncle Ernie" by the Who - not a good song for this good memory morning.
My uncle had lost a little finger at the big knuckle in one of those tragic farmyard "be careful with that axe you'll chop your finger off" accidents. He used to amuse generations of kids by pretending to stick his finger up his nose and tickle his brain.
When I think of Uncle songs, I hear Steve Earle covering The Flying Burrito Brothers' "My Uncle".
Eric - confused as in "what are finger pits?"
What did Uncle Pete check when he did this?
And did he ever find anything?
Is it fair to share stories about my husband's uncles? John grew up in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, a beautiful, rural and economically challenged area. He had a number of bachelor uncles who were, shall we say, colorful?
One summer day, Uncle Matt picked up several of his nieces and nephews to go for a Sunday drive. They 'motored' around part of Lake Superier, stopping at every little store and cafe that Matt could think of that sold ice cream cones. He bought one for each child at every stop - a financial miracle and gastronomic delight for all the kids.
Uncle Matt had an unusual theory about STOP signs - he said they were for 'poor drivers'. He held this theory until a near miss with another car changed his opinion.
Are there any songs in the archives about the glory of ice cream cones, or exciting car rides?
Eric -- I checked the Mpls Library and they have several copies of The Fugitive Wife by your Uncle Pete. So I've requested one sent to my local library... maybe it will explain the finger pit checks!
As an addendum to the uncle stories, I want to add that feeding Peter Rabbit to my niece on Easter Eve may have contributed to her becoming a bounty hunter and private investigator whose story can be heard on the This American Life website in the episodes entitled "Superpowers, Part II "Zora"
Good Morning!
I'll have to cry Uncle on this discussion since I didn't have very interesting uncles. Several were priests and we didn't interact much and there was one that always fell asleep on the couch at all the holiday dinners. It wasn't until later that I understood it was because he was too sloshed to remain upright. He did manage to quit drinking late in my childhood but it didn't make him any more interesting.
Have a great Thursday everyone!
Isn't there an Uncle Albert mentioned in the Beatle's Hands Across the Water?
One of my Uncle Bob's (I had 2, both by marriage) was a county cop in southern WI. He and my aunt had 6 sons, so I was a bit of a novelty when I came to visit. He used to give me whisker rubs on the cheek since he had serious 5 o'clock shadow when he returned home from work. I recall squealing, so I think he enjoyed it more than I did. Also, since they had 6 sons and money was short, Uncle Bob would also buzz cut the boys and my brother and he and my dad would do each other's remaining hair (large bald spots). I also got my haircut by Uncle Bob until 1st or 2nd grade. I got off easy with a pixie cut!
Cynthia - was she warped for life? wicked funny.
Mark, i bet there were lots of "sloshed" relatives around but none of us realized it! i remember family birthday parties that had some really, REALLY LOUD games of Schafskopf (a card game that involves trumps) and my grandpa banging the table with his fist as he yelled "TRUMP!" we loved to watch and listen as we drank cream soda, grape, and orange pop from 8 oz. glass bottles that came in wooden crates.
Dale -
He found a good deal less than if he'd checked our toe pits, that's for sure! He did find some pocket-jam from time to time... This was a very serious task. He always got out his reading glasses for the occasion. Us kids would take turns sitting silently on his lap, awaiting the verdict on our finger pits.
Greetings Heartlanders:
I've been sleeping in all week with kids on break, but now I can't get the streaming audio on my computer. I click "Listen" and nothing pops up. Mozilla Firefox is set to accept pop-ups, etc. I rebooted and still nothing -- I'm bummed not being able to listen, but I always enjoy this blog.
No interesting uncles here -- although my Dad would display his droll humor when we were kids by making us chant "Owa Tagoo Siam" until we figured it out -- dare ya to try it. I still remember Mom chiding him, "Now, Gerald, just stop." Have a great day .... still trying to listen in ....
For RH, we could change it to
"Owa Tagote Tiam"
Cynthia, I heard that story about your niece on MPR! It was great! She sounds like a wonderful person.
One morning last year, I awoke to hear MPR/NPR announce that my Uncle Oliver had won the Nobel Prize for Medicine. He's a geneticist and worked with targeting genes in mice. What I remember is that he was a very nice man from Halifax, England, and enjoyed kayaking and flying airplanes, and talking about wildflowers and birds with my dad. I went to his lab at UW-Madison in the late 60's or early 70's and he showed me a machine or computer that was analyzing amino acids. I had no clue what he was talking about. Great guy.
Reading Barb in Blackhoof's story reminded me of when my Dad would gather with the uncles in poker games at family gatherings. He was 2nd oldest of 11 siblings, so there were LOTS of people at his family gatherings playing poker. It was just pennies, nickels, dimes, etc., but my father (despite his huge intellect), was lousy at cards. With 7 siblings in my family, money was very tight -- I remember watching anxiously as my father lost at poker with the loud, shouting uncles, Grandpa slapping down cards, etc. Personally, I never understood gambling ...
My favorite uncle Leonard died in 1970 of lung cancer, instilling in me a desire to not be a smoker. He never married, and had only one brother, my dad, so we were his closest family. He lived in the Chicago area, but I always looked forward to his visits. He loved music and cars - I still have 60s era collection of reel to reel tapes I'd love to digitize. His last car was a Plymouth Roadrunner (1968 I think), bright red. He liked to say 'it went like a bat out of he**' much to my mother's chagrin.
Thanks Dale for the chance to share his memory.
Farming, uncles... This ain't crazy, but it was sure different for the 1970s. I had a great-uncle who farmed in northeastern PA. We hardly ever saw that part of the family and my mom once told me that he wore a tie every day no matter what he was doing. One day we finally went out to see my great-aunt and great-uncle and so help me as we walked into my aunt's house, there was my uncle coming round the bend on a big tractor in a fedora, a button down shirt and a tie. He never came into the house to visit while we were there, never said a word to us. Kind of like Barbed Wire Boys you played earlier.
Gail, I don't know about Zora being "wonderful" but she certainly is a "Wonder Woman" -- even looks a bit like the actress (name escapes me) on the old tv show (minus the outfit)
This group certainly has fascinating if not always wonderful uncles/relatives.
Have a great day all.
My Uncle Dutch milked about 6 cows on his South Dakota farm, and had a truly wonderful, almost operatic, bass voice with which he serenaded the cows as he milked from his one-legged stool. He could be heard all the way out to the county road. He let us try milking, and made us laugh when he squirted fresh milk into the barn cats' mouths. For years he was the featured soloist at any community event, many weddings and funerals. But we cousins mostly enjoyed getting to ride the tractor, watch cream being separated, pick eggs, scream as he chopped off the chicken's head in preparation for Sunday dinner, and picking up squealing, wriggling piglets.
Thanks, Ellie, for the story about your great uncle who farmed in his button down shirt and tie.
And a fedora! What an image.
I'm glad you mentioned the "Barbed Wire Boys" song. I think Susan Werner captured it perfectly. She grew up on a farm near Decorah, Iowa, so she knows the type of character we're discussing - not just midwestern, it seems. They're in Pennsylvania too.
My mom was the 2nd oldest of 13 siblings and I have more than one colorful uncle. Kevin, Mom's youngest brother, is only four years older than I am. All of us kids looked up to Kevin, and we were generally able to persuaded to go along with his suggestions, however dubious.
One Sunday in the Spring during the mid-1960's relatives came to our house after church. My dad was a rancher and we lived in the country. That day there were some cows and calves in the corral, and my uncle Kevin, who was probably 11 or 12, organized a "rodeo" and persuaded my brother and some cousins, who were ages 5 to 8 or 9, to ride some of the baby calves! He did this without giving them time to change out of their church clothes. Of course the grownups were more than a little perturbed when the boys came in with their Sunday clothes dirty and torn, and Kevin was in the most trouble for putting them up to it.
My Uncles - Frank and Victor along with my Father loved to play cards. Every family gathering - Christmas Eve, Thanksgiving, birthday celebrations would end with a card game. The day I was married my Aunts were in the church kitchen helping get ready for the reception. I found my uncles playing cards in the boiler room.
Our favorite was Uncle Buddy (youngest of 7) who was quite the jokester, and also loved his 45 records. I particularly recall sitting on Grandma's living room floor as he put on his favorite song of 1953, And the Bull Walked Around Ole by Stan Kenton and Chris Conner. I've found a link, Dale, and would love it if you're ever able to play it between 7:00 and 9:00 (or whatever hours are rebroadcast between 11 and 1).
http://wfiu.org/afterglow/chris-connor-at-80/
Starting with two Uncle Bobs, I've been blessed by a bunch of solid farmer-type uncles. I do remember the younger Uncle Bob teaching a bunch of us about electric fences---you know: take a piece of grass---touch the fence and wow, no shock. At least when he did it there was no shock...my cousins and I all got a shot of juice. Lesson learned: be more observant---Uncle Bobby used a dead,dry piece of grass and we (the unobservant) used green pieces---which are conductive. Oh, and then there was Uncle Cyrus who did say to us quite young pile of cousins that if we planted the empty beer bottles he was making, that they would grow into beer bushes. I remember that even at 5 years old we knew that wasn't true---but we humored him anyway, until he went to sleep. Good, good men.
You have such a nice group of posters to your blog, Dale--just funny and charming like you. We don't have an HD radio (as yet) but listen Saturday night rarely with fail.
My mother had a brother whom I met once. He lived in Tacoma for decades and never saw the ocean, for lack of interest I guess. :( My dad's brothers were much more fun: one sweet, one really fun, one kind of crazy. My dad farmed with Sweet uncle and had taken the farm over from his dad and Really Fun uncle. I miss them all (well, not the Tacoma guy.)
My dad is one of ten kids, so I have lots and lots of wonderful uncles. The farming uncles are the most colorful, though. They are the ones who taught my brothers how to swear. They can use son-of-a-bitch as a noun, verb, adverb and adjective, all in the same sentence.
Kris,
I am so intrigued by your uncles' versatile use of
S-O-B. I've been tryin it out as different parts of speech and find using it as a verb a challenge. It's been one of those weeks that felt like Friday would never come and decided this sentence works best for me - "Looks like I'll sonofabitch my way to the weekend after all."
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