Goodby Uncle Bill

I was at the flea market* thumbing through a stack of old dusty records when I heard my cell phone ring. "Mom... why would she be calling right now?" I wondered. "Hi mom, what's up?" I said. There was a loud electronic speaker playing sappy fifties music positioned about four feet in front of me which made it impossible to hear my mother. I quickly moved to an area where I could hear what she had to say. I stepped behind a blue van where it was quiet, and my mom informed me that my Uncle Bill had passed away this morning. The news was painful and took me completely by surprise. When I got off of the phone, forcing back the tears, I stepped back into the crowd and felt as though I was moving in slow motion as the hoards of people swarmed chaotically around me. Drowning on suppressed emotion, I floated along down the river of market-place shoppers. I needed to explode with emotion, but somehow tediously managed to contain the seemingly imminent eruption. As I reflected on the weight of the moment, a rebellious pair of tears escaped and attempted to get away. I found them hiding under my chin and quickly captured them with the sleeve of my jacket.

When I got home, I stood on my deck to be alone and think about Uncle Bill. Chairman Meow sensed my sorrow and got up from his sunny spot to walk over and nudge his head affectionately against my ankle. Vines reached down to me from above and I remembered the thick vines covering the front side of Uncle Bill's home in Rose Park. As a small child I had been fascinated by their mysterious ability to climb and cover the wall. Inside his house, through the living room, down a long hallway and in the last room on the left, I sat with Uncle Bill and watched men walking on the moon... on TV. I watched fuzzy black and white images from a cozy bean bag chair, the first one I had ever seen. On the shelves were books, jars full of pennies a Geiger Counter and other curiosities. He always had something interesting to show me.

Uncle Bill was an avid listener to Salt Lake's local talk programs, and became a regular caller. He turned me on to talk radio when I was pretty young, and I heard him call KTKK and KALL on numerous occasions. He was especially fond of listening to Bob Lesch and Golden Delicious (Donald Packard) when I was living in Salt Lake in the early nineties.

Uncle Bill was afflicted with diabetes, but even when he lost his eyesight, he didn't allow that to thwart his activities. Although completely blind, he built a room onto his home and rebuilt a classic automobile completely by sense of touch. He even taught himself to play piano. I remember him playing Scott Joplin's Entertainer with absolute precision. I was impressed.

The cruel disease of Alzheimer's eventually stole his brilliant mind, and the last time I saw Uncle Bill, he didn't remember very much, but he could still whistle familiar tunes. We shared a special moment as we whistled a song together in harmony. It was so good to be able to connect with him.

Condolences to my sweet Aunt Mae who loved Uncle Bill with all her heart, and to their three children and their kids.

*On another sad note, this weekend marks the end of a Santa Cruz tradition. The flea market and drive-in are closing permanently to make way for more hospital expansion.

William Charles 1925-2007
Santa Cruz Drive In 1947-2007