This was originally posted on 10/31/08, when I didn't have a lot of followers. It means a lot to me and you'll see why I'm reposting it...
I loved Halloween as a kid (who doesn't?) and I have some really good memories. My favorite costume was after I had surgery when I was 7-8 years old. I was sporting a full-length cast on my left leg and was tooling around in a wheelchair. My brothers came up with the idea of going trick-or-treating as an accident victim. I wore the hospital gown that I came home in, wrapped an Ace bandage around my head and 'bloodied' my face and head. I looked GREAT!
I used to go around the neighborhood with a couple of my friends, my 3 youngest brothers, and a few of their friends. One of them always teased me. Always! Of course, we teased him back, calling him 'Dribbles' behind his back because he never stopped talking long enough to swallow his own saliva. Dribbles always made fun of the way I looked, the way I walked...you name it, he made fun of it.
I stopped trick-or-treating when I was 12 years old. I had hip surgery that had complications and I ended up on crutches. I didn't feel like walking for hours anymore, with my only reward being candy. I could stay home to pass out the candy and eat as much as I wanted. It was a win-win situation. I also enjoyed seeing the little kids and how excited they were to be getting 'free' candy.
In October of 1981, I came home from school one day to learn that my Uncle Bill had been in a construction accident. He'd walked into the emergency room on his own two feet, so we assumed he'd be okay. We were wrong.
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Bill was my dad's brother, 1 of 13 siblings. Dad is the 3rd oldest and Bill, the 4th youngest. He was a George Carlin-type of person.
Loud, obnoxious, sarcastic, foul-mouthed. He was my favorite uncle and I loved him to pieces. I like to think I get my sarcastic sense of humor from being around him. He'd come to our house every Sunday and harass the kids (in fun). He'd call my sister 'Olive Oil', for instance, which always cracked us up...and made her mad.
My favorite memory is when I was 10 years old and we were on vacation in Connecticut. My dad's brothers all got together to tear up my grandma's concrete driveway. It was being uprooted by a tree and dangerous to walk on. She was in her 70's, on the heavy side and the sweetest grandma there ever was. Of course, I'm biased...but no one wanted to see anything bad happen to her.
I had nothing better to do so I sat on the porch to watch them work. Pretty soon, Bill stopped to go into the house. A minute later, he came out with a kitchen chair and put it on the lawn, facing the driveway. He picked me up, put me in the chair and said, "You're the supervisor on this job. Keep an eye on these guys and tell me if they slack off."
I didn't know what a supervisor did or what slack off meant...but I had fun. My uncles would say, "Hey Jeff (my dad), keep working. You don't want Jodi tattling on you, do you?" Looking back, I realize that Bill was just humoring a bored little girl...but I felt important that day.
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The day after Bill walked into the hospital, he became unconscious. The doctors finally did a brain scan and found a "closed-head" wound. His brain was injured but the skin wasn't broken so they hadn't done extensive tests. They put him on a ventilator and waited. After 2 weeks, the decision was made by my dad and another uncle to take him off life support. It was 3 weeks before his 49th birthday.
His funeral was on the morning of All Hallow's Eve aka Halloween. I still remember that day vividly. The Pastor gave a sermon titled, "A Well-Built House" about how Bill loved his family and did his best to keep everyone together. I thought it was appropriate because, even though he was loud, obnoxious...and all those other things, he loved his family more than anything. AND he was a construction worker.
After the service, a neighbor girl (one I'd never gotten along with) said to me, "It's for the best." I sarcastically replied, "Falling from a 2-story platform and hitting his head on the sidewalk was for the best???" I was angry and an uncle took me in his arms while I cried.
Bill had been cremated and his ashes were being taken back to Connecticut to be buried next to my grandma, who had passed away in June. Everyone eventually left the church and went back to my house to gather. After hours of talking to people who kept giving me meaningless platitudes, I decided to go outside to pass out candy.
I was sitting on the porch, with 3 of my brothers, when Dribbles drove up. He knew my uncle's funeral was that morning but he's never been accused to having any sympathy. He immediately started in on me...
"That's a great mask! Very realistic."
"You're going to scare all the little tykes away."
"Damn, you're ugly! Oh wait, that's not a mask!"
That was IT! I'm normally a very easy-going person but my favorite uncle had just died and I was NOT in the mood to humor this jerk.
Dribbles was standing directly in front of me and, with all the strength I'd gained from walking on my crutches, I grabbed one and aimed at Mr. Happy and the twins. I swung as hard as I could, with all the anger I'd built up throughout the day.
He fell to the ground, moaning in pain. After a few moments, he looked at my brothers and gasped, "What the hell did she do that for?" My brothers, who I (more often than not) bickered with most of the time, replied, "You deserved it, dude."
It's been 27 years but I still think of Uncle Bill every single day. I always complain that Sundays are boring. I was so used to seeing him every weekend for the 17 years that I knew him, that Sundays have never been the same.
Neither has Halloween.
