Oct
So I received word just a little while ago that my Uncle John passed away.
He was a great, yet humble and simple, man. He was an excellent thinker because he was a great listener. A discussion with him was often more about you talking and reiterating your thoughts, building and forming them while he took them in…until he brought out his fully formed thoughts and opinions and then you would have to completely rethink your line of reasoning.
He was my first model as a person of the mind. When I was very young, he and my Aunt Dolly lived in California. Then they moved to the suburbs of Washington, DC, where we would visit them several times a year. And when he’d come into Philly we would almost always make a trek to the Art Museum and William H. Allen Booksellers. I would be exposed to art and history, science and literature at his gentle hand. Of course he would always indulge me and find a way for us to stop by a comic book store on the way.
He took me to my first R-rated movie, Alien, while I was visiting them in Maryland. I remember it because I don’t think it interested him much, but he knew I really wanted to see it.
He was quick with a smile and a hug (which were really tight, especially for a man of narrow frame). I was in awe of his library, which he shared with great generosity.
I remember family meals, usually holiday feasts, when he would dig into a dish and pronounce it “might tasty” with an evident joie de vivre.
Yet it wasn’t until I was a grown man that I felt I really knew my uncle. Years ago when I was pondering the future of a relationship that brought with it some religious baggage, I wrote Uncle John a letter. You see, he had converted to Catholicism for my Aunt and I wanted to understand the logic of his decision. What I got was something different.
He spoke of the passion and love that had for this woman and that if it were necessary he would lose his soul for her. This from a man of great warmth and love, but also somewhat stoical and not the kind for opening his emotions like that. That letter gave me such a deep appreciation for the depth of feeling this great man possessed.
At the moment I am most sad for my aunt. He was her life. If he had any sadness or regret in passing, I am sure it was for her and leaving her alone. I hope she can have comfort in the many years that they had together (their 47th anniversary was a few days ago).
Along with the letter that he sent me, I have another treasured possession from my uncle. In 1958 he published a biography of the great physicist Albert A. Michelson. Just last year I got him to send me an autographed copy.
So as well as all the warm and wonderful memories of my Uncle John—someone who was really like a grandfather to me—I have the expressions of his love for life and ideas and a woman who enriched his soul.
I can only hope to leave as much behind.
