My dad always called him Charlie. Grandma called him Charles. But to all of us cousins he was Uncle Chuck. Chuck was larger than life, and sometimes twice as loud. On the outside he was tough as nails, could swear like a longshoreman and spoke his mind. But he treated us kids with fatherly warmth and love. He was married to my dad's youngest sister, Auntie Alice. You couldn't refer to one of them without saying Chuck n' Alice. They raised 3 boys, our cousins, and their house out in the country was a gathering place for the family, a fantastic place for kids to roam, have fun, have adventures. There were hills, trees, ravines, and a swamp. This place had Disneyland beat hands down. When all the young cousins got together it was always an adventure. The grown ups would hang around the house and the kids would roam at will; no one worried about our safety. We were allowed to be kids.
One summer we pitched some tents and camped out on the other side of the big ravine. The fun attraction that year was riding across the ravine on a converted manure bucket (if you don't know what that is, you have lived a sheltered life). Chuck had taken the manure hauler out of their barn, removed the bucket, and attached a platform. He then stretched a cable across the ravine between 2 trees, one side higher than the other. You'd pull the carrier back, jump on while someone held a rope, then they'd let go of the rope. You'd zoom across the ravine to the other side. No safety lines, no helmet, nothing between you and the bottom of the ravine a thousand feet down. (the scale as seen by a 10 year old). This was called having fun. Chuck was a draftsman, a toolmaker, and was an incredibly smart guy. And he didn't do anything small. So, when his boys wanted some fun, he would engineer some fun.
During this camp out someone thought it would be a good idea to smoke mice out of a tree. Again, if you don't know what that means, you have lived a sheltered life. We smoked some mice out of the partially hollow tree, and eventually we all went to sleep in tents. Sometime in the early morning I woke up, stuck my head out of the tent and couldn't help noticing that the tree was on fire. Engulfed. Not smoldering, not smoking. On fire. We tried to extinguish the flames, but you can't control much of a fire with the contents of a thermos. So we did the only thing we could do.
We hiked back to the house and had breakfast. While the tree burned.
Once the adults were awake they were informed about the tree. Uncle Chuck and my dad decided a burned out tree was a safety hazard, so they set about removing the hazard. They drove Chuck's little AC tractor (if you don't know what an AC is....) around and across the ravine, hooked a chain up to it, and planned to pull the tree over.
Well, that was the plan.
Except, when Chuck started yanking on the tree, the AC headed down the embankment to the edge of the ravine. Of course, all of us cousins were watching this from a safe distance and could hear my dad shouting, "jump Charlie, jump!" But Chuck stayed in the saddle, hit the brakes, and rode it out. Fortunately the chain was still hooked to the tree and the tractor, so it kept the AC and Chuck from going over the edge. The tractor came to a stop, Chuck shut it down, and climbed down.
My dad ran down the hill to Chuck. "Are you ok?" Chuck looked at him, fired up an unfiltered Chesterfield and said, "you know, I was a little scared".
An hour later Chuck dispatched the burned out tree with a few sticks of dynamite. You see, he didn't do anything small or in half measures.
Many years later my dad passed away. Five days later his dad, our grandfather, passed away. We had Dad's funeral one day, and Grandpa's the next. It was just a few days before Christmas and a very sad, hard time. Relatives and friends came from all over for the services. Of course, Uncle Chuck was there. Chuck had lost his beloved Alice a few years before, so he was alone. It had been several years since I had seen Chuck, and gave him a big bear hug when I saw him. Chuck was there, being his fatherly self. He could be loud, but he also had a low voice, a kind, heartfelt voice that could melt your heart.
After Grandpa's funeral, my brother, sisters and I were at Mom's house, and Chuck came over too. We cleared off the table and played some penny poker. It was a perfect way to relax and ease the tension of some really hard days, and no one was feeling in a holiday mood. We had been playing for awhile, and in between hands Chuck looked around the table and in that low, heartfelt voice, almost breaking, he said, "...by God it's nice to be here with you kids".
You could have heard a pin drop. For at that moment, all the sorrow and sadness of the previous week seemed to fade away a bit. For a moment, the warmth and love of a man, hard as nails on the outside but possessing a true heart of gold on the inside, melted away the winter ice and cold and warmed our hearts and souls. In that moment, our Christmas was saved by Uncle Chuck.
Chuck's been gone now for several years, as are too many of that generation of the family. But everyone in the family has a favorite Chuck story. He may be gone, but he lives on in the memories of everyone he knew. Memories that can warm us on the coldest winter nights.
Merry Christmas Uncle Chuck.
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