uncle
My Uncle Bill is the 2nd child of my dad’s parents, and at 91, he is the one who has lived the longest. He is the last one left. That is something that I find to be sad for those of us who have lost our parent from the Spencer side, and happy that Uncle Bill is still with us. Reaching the age of 90 was something Uncle Bill never expected, and now, he has gone beyond that, and as far as we know, he will still be here next year and the year after that. And that does make me glad, because I love him very much and really don’t want him to leave us yet. I’m happy that God has blessed him with long life.
His health is good, but I suspect he has forgotten more about the family history than most of us will ever know. Uncle Bill became interested in the family history as a young man, and he has kept extensive records. The records he has are more than remarkable, because it was mostly done without the help of computers. He received some help later in life that involved computers, but his research was not done that way. I have also done a lot of research on my family tree, and it was Uncle Bill who inspired me to do so. I must say, however, that I did use the computer a lot, so my research has come from the work of many other people too. Not as remarkable as Uncle Bill’s work, but effective just the same.
Uncle Bill’s life was based in many ways on his childhood experiences. From his love of guns and antiques, to his management skills, he watched those people he respected and sometimes even took on the same causes, as is the case with the aunt who got him started in genealogy. The guns came from his personal experience, and his love of antiques was what got his longest career going. He collected everything… guns, coins, stamps, and antique furniture. Then he decided to start a shop to buy, sell and trade those items. His shop was an amazing place, because you never knew what treasures were hidden there. Eventually, he started a mail order business, and sold his items all over 
the country, and probably the world.
Today is Uncle Bill’s 91st birthday, and I’m sure that if he were not retired, you would still find him working at his shop in Superior, Wisconsin, doing his very best to make that next sale, or sitting with one of the people that used to stop by just to visit, and talk about old times. Happy birthday Uncle Bill!! We love you very much and hope you have a wonderful day!!
My mom’s younger brother, Uncle Wayne has always been such a funny man. He loves to make the kids laugh. For as long as I can remember, Uncle Wayne had dentures, and he loved popping them in and out of his mouth when the kids were around. He could pop them part way out of his mouth and make them act like they were going to bite you…all with no hands. The first time we saw it, we screamed with delight, and then we begged him to do it again. When we were little enough not to understand what dentures were, we would try to pop our own teeth out too, a comical site for sure, as we pushed our lower jaw out , or pushed on our teeth with our tongue. Uncle Wayne’s eyes just danced and beamed with delight as he watched us try, then he would show us how “easy” it was, if we just knew how. Every time we saw him we asked again and again, to pop out his teeth. If Uncle Wayne got tired of that, he never showed it. He would simply grin and pop out those teeth, and then sit back with a smile on his face and wait…for a second or two…until the kids started begging him to do it again.
Uncle Wayne’s funny side developed early in his life. He was the younger of my mom’s two brothers, and one of two boys in a family of nine children. You could look at that situation in a couple of ways. You could call him and his brother…out numbered, and you would be right. Or, you could say that the boys had lots of potential victims…for all of the antics boys are bound by their very nature to engage in. Since my mom was born right in between 
those two boys, and they were often her playmates, and she was either a prime victim or a partner in crime…depending on how she or they felt at the time. To be sure, my mom and her two brothers got into plenty of mischief together. What one didn’t come up with one of the others would, and when you put those three heads together…oh boy, look out!!
Today is my Uncle Wayne’s 75th birthday…which is a landmark by any standards. His life has been one filled with laughter, much of which was his own making…the best kind of life. Happy birthday Uncle Wayne!! Have a wonderful day!! We love you very much!!
There is so much controversy these days concerning guns and gun control, and while I don’t usually write about political events, this one hits close to home for me and my family. For many years, my Uncle Bill was a gun dealer. He and his family had always had guns. He became interested in antique guns at some point and began to collect, deal, and show the guns at gun shows all over the north central part of the United States, and possibly even in the north west part, as well. Uncle Bill and my dad, as well as their sisters were raised around guns, and yet not one of them ever killed someone.
My family and my husband’s family have been around guns all our lives too. Our parents have hunted, as have many of us children and our spouses. If you live in Wyoming, as in many other places, owning a gun is really not so unusual. It doesn’t, however, give any indication that the gun owners here, or anywhere else are likely to commit murder. And, while people who torture animals, often move on to killing people, hunters usually do not. Legal hunters have a respect for the animals they hunt. It is to provide food for their family, that the hunter hunts.
For centuries, people have owned guns, and during all those years, mass school shootings were unheard of…until recently. Christians, like myself, mostly agree that it is largely because we have kicked God out of our schools. That makes so many people angry, because they think we are talking about God being angry at the schools because He was kicked out, but that isn’t it at all. In my opinion, when we removed God from our schools, we stopped teaching morality. Generations of kids have grown up with a changed view of right and wrong. Then those same kids are out there making television shows, video games, writing books, creating pictures, and so many other things that our impressionable kids are viewing. Wrong has become right…if it seems right to the person doing the wrong. It has become a matter of “the devil made me do it” or simply a matter of not allowing anyone to step on our feelings. It has become a good thing to be bad, and a good show is called wicked.
I think, that is we want to change things in this nation, we need to change what we are teaching our kids in school, and in life. Guns don’t kill people…people kill people, and very often, guns are not the weapon of choice, in fact, guns are used the least amount 
of the time. We can’t remove every possible weapon for the hands of people, unless we want to live in a Nerf world, and even then, people will use their hands, or they will just use rocks. We have to start teaching our kids and our adults the value of human life, and to respect each person’s right to life. We have to realize that few people intentionally set out to hurt the feelings of others, and as with bullying, the ones who do need to be swiftly punished. We need to stop looking at others as less important than we are, and treat each person with respect, no matter how the look, talk, and no matter what their race, gender, or age is. Our ancestors carried guns for many centuries, and did not shoot up schools or other public places in order to make a point, possibly because of the values our nation started on. Maybe we need to work to make all people feel like they are a person of value, because it isn’t the gun that kills, it is the person bent on revenge who kills people.
My cousin sent me some pictures a couple of days ago and boy, did they bring back some memories. One in particular struck me, mostly because of the difference in the times…and the things you can and can’t do today. My dad’s brother, Bill and his family used to come for visits, and we would go there for visits when we were little kids. One of our favorite things to do was to picnic on Casper Mountain. It is a beautiful place and it’s nearby. We have always loved going on the mountain. The summer air is cooler there, and fresh with the smells of pine. The birds are singing and the breeze whispers through the tree tops. I could stay up there for a long time.
Back then, Dad had an old green pickup truck, and whenever we all went somewhere in the truck, all of us kids got to ride in the back of the truck. Now, I know that people don’t usually ride in the back of a truck any more, and maybe it isn’t the safest idea, but back then it was the normal way to go. On any given day, you might see a dozen or more people driving around with the kids in the back of the truck, and I don’t remember ever hearing about anyone getting hurt or killed, although I’m sure it happened. Nevertheless, when we were going to go up on the mountain, they loaded all of us kids up in the back of the truck and the adults in front. And away we went.
We had a great time riding back there, with the wind in our hair…and none of us cared if our hair was a wreck after that ride either. Dad would drive up the mountain, and then 
stop at Lookout Point so we could see how beautiful the city was from up there. The night views were the best of course, because the city lights always looked like a jewelry box. The picnic and the city views were great, but I will always remember the wonderful rides in the back of Dad’s truck, probably because we got to do more of those. Of course, looking back, and knowing the safety risks today, I wouldn’t let my kids or grandkids ride there, but we didn’t know that then, and I guess God just watched out for us, because we obviously lived through it. Kind of like not having seat belts in the car, and rolling onto the floor at a sudden stop. We didn’t think of it being unsafe…just funny. I guess it was just the times we lived in.
My mom and her siblings have always had a close relationship, and even if their lives have become busy enough at times, so that it became almost impossible to see each other very often, they maintained a lasting love for their siblings and their spouses. Of course, as with most families, the older siblings and their spouses had more in common with each other than with the younger siblings. Because of that, my family spent more time with my Aunt Evelyn and Uncle George’s family, since my cousins, my older sister and I were close to the same ages. That said, I remember going out to Aunt Evelyn and Uncle George’s house to play, and always having a great time. Maybe it was that I was so young, or maybe it was because everything always seemed more fun at someone else’s house, but we always had the greatest time.
My Uncle George was always a soft spoken man…at least when I was around. I’m sure that having 5 kids of their own, all feisty, could make a man raise his voice once in a while, but I don’t recall that happening while I was there. I always liked their house, because it seemed so unusual. They had built it themselves, and it had cool and unusual, at least at that time, doorways, which were arched, and a fireplace, which our house didn’t have. There were lots of other things about their house, their own design that I liked too, but I don’t recall what all they were now. It’s been a long time since I have been through their house. All I know is that we always had great adventures out there.
My Uncle George is a handsome man…the kind you think of when you say, tall, dark and handsome, so I can see why my aunt was attracted to him, but there was so much 
more to him than that. I always loved his quiet laugh, and his gentle ways. He was always so nice. Today, my uncle is 88 years old. He has been a member of my mom’s family longer than any other spouse, and like my Aunt Sandy always says, he is more like a brother than a brother-in-law to her and I’m sure most of the kids. He is the oldest living member of the family now, sort of the man of the family, since grandpa passed away, back in 1980. His childhood was without a family of his own, because he was raised in the State Children’s Home, but for the last 65 years, he has belonged to us…and we are very, very happy about that. Happy birthday Uncle George!! Have a wonderful day!! We all love you very much!!
Bob and I grew up during the hippy years of the mid-1970’s. All the guys wanted to have long hair. Bob’s hair was, by no means, as long as many other guys had, but it was quite a bit longer than he had while he was living at home. Like most parents, he was told to keep it short, while he was living at home. So when he graduated, he moved into his own place, and grew his hair longer…much to the irritation of his mom. I met Bob about 6 months after he had moved out on his own, so his hair was already longer.
Bob and his family had always had a great relationship with their family who lived in Forsyth, Montana, which is where Bob’s family came from. The family would go up there to visit at least once a year, and Bob didn’t change that tradition when he moved out. His uncles weren’t so much older than he was that they really seemed like uncles exactly, so he got along with them very well. After Bob moved out, he would go to Forsyth just to hang out with uncles, and visit his grandma. Eddie, at 11 years older and Butch, at 9 years older were, nevertheless, the older generation. When Bob was 19, Eddie was 30, and Butch was 28. They pretty much sided with Bob’s parents when it came to the length of a man’s hair.
The older generation took great pleasure in teasing Bob about his hair. I’m sure that he heard things like “you look like a girl” or “shaggy dog.” I’m also sure he was repeatedly told to get a hair cut. Of course, like most kids in the hippy generation, those comments had no real effect on him. Nevertheless, I’m sure Eddie got Bob’s attention when he decided to tell Bob, “We can fix that right now!!” Then, he proceeded to attack Bob, or rather, Bob’s hair with an unplugged electric hair trimmer. Eddie would never really cut Bob’s hair, and I’m pretty sure Bob knew that too, but in the moment, maybe he wondered just a little bit, while genuinely hoping that the trimmer wasn’t plugged in.
Being a girl from a family of all girls, the idea of paintball would never have entered my mind. I’m not saying that my sisters and I were real prissy, but we weren’t into pain and getting totally dirty either. We were typical girls, who liked dolls and other girl things, when we were little, and while we liked to go camping, we still didn’t want any of the wild creatures of the forest in our camp unless it was a deer or a bird. Then, when Bob and I had children, we had 2 girls too, so I really never had to have much dealings with the kind of stuff boys are into, other than Bob’s love of mechanics, which didn’t really affect me much, unless he needed help on something.
Then came the sons-in-law and the 3 grandsons…and oh boy, what a shock to my rather girly system!! All of the dirt, cars, rough housing, and most recently paintball fighting, are things that have taken some getting used to. I simply can’t imaging choosing to get hit with paintballs. I have seen the bruises the guys have after one of their “friendly” fights, and while I’m no wimp, I think I’ll have to pass when it comes to letting someone shoot paintballs at me and leave me full of bruises. I’m quite sure that fact will come as quite a 
disappointment to the guys, as I’m sure they would love to have a crack at that fight.
My grandsons are getting better at their shooting skills, but it will take some doing to beat their dad and uncle, I think, and Kevin usually gets the upper hand. Caalab doesn’t get to fight as much as Chris and Josh, since their dad is the one into paintball, but he has fun when he gets to go along. I’m sure my daughter, Corrie has all but given up on the idea of keeping their clothes clean and paint free. I don’t know how well this stuff washes out, but my guess is that it comes out pretty well, but if not, you just make sure to wear old clothes, right. Yep, dirt, paintballs, bruises, and fun…that’s paintball!!
Uncle Jim, my Aunt Dixie’s husband has always seemed like such a quiet, and even shy man. I don’t think he really was shy, just quiet. I think he was a man who was often deep in his own thoughts, which is quite a bit like I am, so I can relate to it. Quiet people aren’t necessarily shy, and quite often, they really have a lot on their minds, but they just don’t always say everything they know. The strange thing is that their face almost always speaks volumes. That is how I have always felt about Uncle Jim. You could see how he felt by the smiles on his face…and he smiles a lot.
A serious family man, Uncle Jim moved his family to the country on the west side of Casper, where they live to this day. His children have bought homes that are very close to their parents…just across the street, in fact. The family is very close, and enjoys each other’s company. The grandchildren have the benefit of the closeness to grandparents, and their parents have the ability to work, knowing that the kids can be with their grandparents while they are away. It is a win/win situation.
For many years, Uncle Jim took care of his mother, who lived with them for quite some time, and also helped in the care of my grandparents when then needed help. That is really the thing that has always impressed me the most with my uncle. He is a very caring person, who always puts the needs of others ahead of his own needs. People just don’t come better than that. In this age of much better longevity, caregivers are very much in demand, and as a caregiver myself, I know what it takes to care for another person. It is a selfless act of a special person with a heart of gold that is filled with compassion.
Today is my Uncle Jim’s 75th birthday, and as usual, he is spending it busily getting things ready for the cold winter months that are coming up, because, that is simply what he does. He takes care of the needs of his family. Well, happy birthday Uncle Jim!! Don’t work too hard. We love you!!
My grandmother’s brother on my mom’s side, has been an interesting character to me. I always liked Great Uncle Bill, and his wife, Great Aunt Stella, but I can’t say that I always knew him very well. Recently as I have been researching my family’s history, I have again come across Great Uncle Bill, both in pictures and in stories. I found a cousin named Marlene, who had told a story about a time in Great Uncle Bill and Great Aunt Stella’s life when they lived in Kemmerer, Wyoming. Great Uncle Bill had worked for the Railroad for a number of years, and while living in Kemmerer, the railroad provided them with a beautiful place outside of town. It was a two story house and a bunk house and a little house just for the railroad car that they used every day. The bunkhouse served a dual purpose, becoming a dance hall when it was time to do Great Uncle Bill’s favorite passtime, which is dancing, and more specifically square dancing. They loved holding those dances, and usually had more than a dozen couples in attendance.
Marlene tells about the summer she and her siblings got to spend with Great Uncle Bill and Great Aunt Stella. She painted a picture of Great Aunt Stella cooking on the old wood cook stove the house had. For one of the dances, Marlene and her siblings got to help bake cupcakes for the dance in that old wood cook stove. She tells me that Great Aunt Stella could make that cook stove create the most wonderful things to eat. The cupcakes were frosted with green and blue frosting, which were met with mixed feelings at the dance…probably because of the blue and green lips they would create.
Great Uncle Bill also loved to play the fiddle and was an excellent caller for the square dances. Marlene always had such a great time, because she had learned to square dance, and was better than most of the adults. It must have been great fun to be able to keep up with the adults at a real square dance. And Great Uncle Bill could really play the fiddle. It was his passion. He had won many competitions and was a grand champion, several times over.
After emailing back and forth and reading the story Marlene posted on Ancestry.com, I feel 
like I now know my Great Uncle Bill and my Great Aunt Stella better. Great Uncle Bill passed away in December, 2005, and Great Aunt Stella passed away in December, 2009. Today, his birthday, Great Uncle Bill would have been 96 years old. I can’t help but think about how sad it is that the fiddle is now silenced, the dances over, but then, that is just on this earth. I’m sure there is room in Heaven for a dancing fiddle player like my Great Uncle Bill and his favorite partner, Stella.
My Uncle Jim and my dad were a couple of characters. They loved to get together and when they did, oh boy…watch out. They would tease the kids and our moms, and manage to get everybody laughing. It was always such fun to have Aunt Ruth and Uncle Jim and the kids come to our house or to go to their house. It didn’t matter how you felt before they got started, because after they started joking around, you felt great. It was just an ability they both had and when you put the two of them together, they were doubly funny. Sometimes I think they drove our moms crazy…especially when they got us kids going. And since they moved away, I think my dad always did his best to live up to the old tradition…or maybe he started it in the first place. It’s hard to say.
Dad and Uncle Jim liked to invent different soups too. They would just start throwing different ingredients in and cook it up. They were pretty good at all this, because no one complained. Many men can’t cook at all, much less make up a recipe as they go along. In fact, a lot of women can’t do that. I know I’ve tried to add things I thought would be good, and it wasn’t so spectacular. I guess you were just born with a 
certain knack for it.
We always had so much fun when Uncle Jim and Aunt Ruth and the kids lived here, and it was really sad to see them move away. Time and distance have pushed our lives further and further away from each other. My cousin Larry passed away in 1976, Aunt Ruth in 1992, and my dad in 2007. We hadn’t seen much of Uncle Jim, Shirley, or Terry for a long time, until Facebook brought us back together. That is something I am very happy about. My Uncle Jim turned 90 a few days ago, and while he is in a nursing home with Alzheimer’s Disease, I am still thrilled that he has reached such a grand old age. And I’m quite sure that whether people see it or not, there is still that little boy in there somewhere. Uncle Jim and my dad were always just a couple of little boys at heart
