in memoriam

My great Uncle Carl died today. I was shocked at how emotional I became when I heard the news. For a few moments, I couldn’t stop crying. I’m not sure if I cried for myself, for my aunt Carole who had just celebrated her 50^th wedding anniversary with the man she loved, or for the fact that the world had lost such a beautiful man.

In truth, I hadn’t seen Uncle Carl in just over 10 years. Since Great Grandma and Papa John’s death, we no longer had much of a reason to visit Illinois where my mom grew up and Uncle Carl & Aunt Carole still lived. While I hadn’t seen him in a very long time, he’s still one of those relatives I felt pretty close to. Mostly because as a kid he made such an impact in my life.

Uncle Carl was a farmer, and looked every bit the part. He was a big man who usually wore overalls and always had rosy cheeks. He was very much a “Northerner”, quiet and reserved, but had a laugh that would fill a room. I never heard him raise his voice, and he never seemed like the kind of man to lose his temper. He was the personification of a “gentle soul”.

Growing up, Mom and I would usually make a trip up North every 3 or 4 years. Every visit we’d go to Carole & Carl’s farm after Sunday church for dinner and homemade ice cream. When I was in elementary school, I remember him giving me my first tour of the farm. We walked out into the cornfields where he showed me how to shuck corn. I took a ride on his tractor, amazed that it had a nice radio and air conditioning. When I was in high school, he drove me out to the Grain Mill where I got my first ever stock lesson. He explained that you had to plan your trip right, because some days were better than others for selling your crops. And that trip determined the rest of your year, because farmers only got paid once, and that money had to last for an entire year (which is why farmers wives had to be self-appointed accountants).

After high school, Mom and I made another trip up North. The family drove to Camargo, Illinois where the Douglas County Museum had set up a Korean War Exhibit. It was at that time I found out Uncle Carl had been in the Korean War. He was a conscientious objector at his time of his enlistment and went on to become a medic. He and I walked the museum together while he humbly told me the story of how he earned the Silver Star Medal (he earned many others, I later learned). I remember stopping after the end of the story and saying “Uncle Carl, you’re a true hero!” He turned a brighter shade of red, looked down and said “No honey, I just did what I had to do at the time. There were very little heroics involved.”

I have one other memory of Uncle Carl that stands out in my mind. He and Aunt Carole had driven my Great Grandma and Papa John down for their last visit to Texas. We were all having dinner at Mom’s house and Uncle Carl said out of nowhere “Ya know Taunya, you have a very close family member who was a part of the KKK.” He sort-of chuckled as the shock set in. “Who?” I asked in utter amazement. He chuckled again as he looked into the other room where my gentle Great Grandma sat. “NO WAY!” I said as I ran to ask Great Grandma about the details. “Oh Carl,” she said with her tickled grin, “was there any reason to share that with the family? Don’t worry honey, we weren’t against the blacks back then. We didn’t even have any blacks in Camargo, Illinois. We were angry at the Catholics.” Amazed, I asked “Did you burn crosses in people’s yards?” She laughed. “No honey, the KKK was about bake sales. We baked cookies. Now what your grandfather did back then is his business, and he was probably right to take it to the grave with him.” We then launched into one of the many history lessons Uncle Carl was known for.

My heart hurts that I will never again have a chance to benefit from Uncle Carl’s wisdom and grace. That I will never again feel the pride that came from eliciting a chuckle from him. That I will never sit next to him as he churns homemade ice cream or ride along side him in a tractor. My heart breaks for his family; my great aunt who never had any love for a man other than him and my cousins who had the honor of having him for a father and grandfather. I know how large the hole in my heart feels today, I can’t fathom how large theirs is. All I do know is that we were all blessed to have known such a wonderful man.