08-009

 

My Uncle Henry

 

I’ll never forget what my uncle told me. He was my uncle on my mother’s side. That’s not what he told me. I knew that already because lots of people in my family said he was “uncle on mom’s side” and if that isn’t testimony enough I’ll challenge anyone to show me different. Differently? Which is it? What’s it supposed to be, an adjective or an adverb. I sometimes get these mixed up.

 

You know the one’s that (which?) really trouble me? They’re that and which. I don’t think I get them right half the time. What I mean to say is I do think I get them right about half the time. But, of course, that’s just wishful thinking.

 

His name was Arthur. For some reason we all called him Henry. There is a story that goes along with why Arthur we called Henry. I say it’s a “cute” story but that’s not what my aunt would have called it. One time I heard her call it apocryphal. Apocryphal? No, that can’t be right. Now I remember. She called it appalling.

 

With the passage of time (and my uncle and aunt) it has gravitated to “cute.” Did you know that long ago before my aunt’s time, and before Henry’s time too, cute didn’t mean cute. It meant something else.

 

I know you are waiting to hear the story and I am poised to tell it if you’ll just humor me a moment to make sure I have all the preliminaries in place for a full accounting and appreciation for it, i.e. the story. What would it matter to you if I told the story only to have you left with a lot of questions I couldn’t answer. That wouldn’t make me look very up on my family’s things, I can assure you.

 

My aunt’s name was Rose. She was named after her mother, which would make her my great aunt Rose. The first of the two Roses. The second Rose was my aunt. Have I made a complete blunder of this or not? My first aunt Rose wasn’t my aunt, she was my grandmother. If she was my aunt because she was married to my uncle who was my mother’s brother, she’d be my grandmother’s daughter-in-law.

 

Well I never. Now I’m confused. I think I’ve admitted it before, I’m not very good at mathematics. And the “was” and “were” question, the “subjunctive” I think it’s called, really pops my cork.

 

Henry and Rose did not have any children and I have to believe that’s a good thing for me because I would have had a hard time telling them apart. I’m not proficient in the kid arena.

 

If there are no more interruptions I’ll get to the story now. It seems that, well, it doesn’t seem, it actually was. My aunt was at home and my uncle was not. I don’t know where he was. Nobody who told the story ever said where he was. It is not relevant anyway. Then he got home and when he came through the door my aunt called out, “Is that you, Henry?” The name (Henry) stuck to him (Arthur) ever since that.

 

Some of my other relatives always laughed when they told or heard that story. Frankly, I didn’t see any humor in it, but I was fairly young.

 

Now I remember why I started this whole thing. It was what I’ll never forget what my uncle told me. It was, “Don’t ever tell that story about me and your aunt.”