My Tribute to My Sweet Uncle Don W.

It has been a tough week. My family suffered a great loss with the passing of my beloved uncle. Uncle Don W. was the best of men. He was quiet, but when he spoke, it was wise to listen. I spent some of the best times of my childhood at his house. He is actually the first person to introduce me to telescopes, and he showed me the craters on the moon when I was barely old enough to reach the eyepiece.

I specify he is Uncle Don W. because I also have an Uncle Don P. It's funny because not only do I have two uncles named Don, I have two first cousins named Don, as well. It's a popular name, I guess.

I spent the summer with Uncle Don and Aunt Karen when I was 16 years old. I helped my aunt around her antique shop, swam in their pool, attended my first stockcar race, became accustomed to riding around in a sleek Camaro Z-28, entertained my young cousins, and reveled in the clean country air.

Uncle Don believed in working hard and playing harder. He worked six days a week, but he believed in having fun on his day off. He flew RC planes, raced with an AutoCross club, played around on an incredible ATV, and cooked some incredible things on the grill and in the smoker. In fact, he had perfected smoked turkey with the secret family recipe that is only passed down to the men. (I fervently hope that someday my cousin will share that recipe with me.)

He loved watching The Three Stooges. Their antics, even though the show is antiquated, made Uncle Don laugh over and over again. He also loved animals. He had cattle, chickens, dogs, and cats. He once explained to me the difference between dogs and cats and how to know which was right for me.

He told me that dogs require being outside, at least part of the day. They need to run, jump, and bark. Of course, they also need to go outside to take care of their business a few times a day. Cats, he said, can stay in the house all day, every day. They're happy to have their heads scratched but don't require the kind of energy dogs do. He went on to explain that if a cat has food, water, and a clean litter box, it will never need to go outside. He advised me to get a cat because I have a busy life.

One of my favorite memories of Uncle Don is from Christmas shortly before my dad passed away. We were having our celebration at Uncle Don's house that year, and it had snowed a few inches. Ever ready for an adrenaline rush, he asked Dad if he wanted to have some fun. Of course, Dad did. Those guys were two peas in a pod. They walked over to his workshop and emerged in a six-wheeled ATV. I don't remember what it was called, but it looked like a lot of fun to me, so I hopped in the backseat.

Uncle Don loved all things that roared and/or went fast. This ATV did both, as I recall. We were at the top of a mountain, and he decided to show us what it could do. He didn't tell us the tires turned individually, until we were sliding down the side of the mountain sideways and at great velocity. I think he and Dad probably enjoyed that ride a little more than I did because I was on the side that was facing the quickly approaching pond in the valley.

We never reached the bottom of the mountain. Uncle Don spun around and took us on an adventurous ride back to the top. As I was dismounting the ATV of great thrills, he asked me if I thought my husband needed one. I smiled and told him that I didn't think so.

To truly illustrate what a wonderful uncle he was, I'm going to tell you about the great cherry pie incident. It was sometime in the eighties, and I was a teen. One of the few things I did extremely well back then was bake pie. Uncle Don's favorite pie was cherry, and Dad's favorite was apple.

We were preparing for a visit from some distant relatives I'd never met, and Mom suggested I bake a couple of pies. I decided to bake one cherry and one apple. I took my time rolling out the pie crust until it was perfect and used double the filling of a normal pie. I made certain every detail was just right, and they came out of the oven a few minutes before our guests arrived.

I put them on the counter to cool and joined the rest of my family outside to greet our great-uncle twice removed or whoever he was. I never quite understood the connection, but our guest was a relative of my great-grandfather and probably about the same age. When the man and his wife arrived, we made introductions and small talk. It wasn't long before either my aunt or Mom offered them some pie.

We all went in the house, and the ladies followed me into the kitchen. Grasping the knife in one hand, I admired my handiwork. I remember remarking that they were almost too pretty to cut. My relative's wife grabbed the knife from me and butchered my cherry pie first. As I stood aghast and speechless, she butchered my apple pie with the same knife, leaving a trail of cherry pie filling that resembled a crime scene because she didn't wipe the knife off between pies.

I was appalled and ran from the kitchen. Uncle Don intercepted me before I could run out the front door. He asked what the problem was. Fighting tears, I explained the whole thing. He patted me on the shoulder and told me that it didn't matter. It would eat (taste) just fine.

Then, patting his belly, he said, "It all ends up in the same place, anyway."

I must have continued my dramatic indignation a bit longer because I remember him telling me to keep her away from the knives next time, and there wouldn't be any problems.

Most of the adults at the time would have told me to get over it and straighten up. Uncle Don didn't. Instead, he comforted and encouraged me. That's the kind of man he was.

And the lady who butchered my pies until they resembled a murder scene? We refer to her as Elsie the Pie Killer.

Uncle Don was only fifteen years older than me. I guess I felt more connected to him because he was just a kid when I was born. I was at his wedding, visited both of his kids shortly after they were born, and watched as he moved from a trailer house to a nice house to his dream home of his own design over the years. I saw him go from a motorcycle to truck to a Camaro to a Cadillac.

He is gone too soon, and I will sorely miss him. My love and prayers are with my aunt, cousins, and the rest of the family.

May Uncle Don rest in peace.

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