To my Uncle with Love

My crazy, artistic, ultra liberal cynical Uncle Roger is dying.

My earliest memory of him is in Palm Springs. He visited us driving his old VW bus and parked it on the side of our apartment building and slept there instead of our couch. He also ate his own food, which I thought was really strange. In fact, when I went out to the bus while he was standing there in his long hair and suede shirt making his breakfast of chicken livers and eggs, I thought the whole place smelled funny. But I was intrigued by this strange man that was my dad's brother and have been ever since.

I remember him again during my early high school years in Sacramento. Growing up with dad and his strong conservative views (back then), I was walking the American Dream straight and narrow. Studying hard, getting straight As, and super excited about my new job at McDonald's that I hoped would earn me a new stereo within my first couple paychecks. Rather than the typical grown up response I was getting from the folks in my blue collar neighborhood, my visiting uncle sarcastically congratulated me on becoming a ¨good little capitalist¨ which started political argument #4,587 between he and dad.

The summer after high school my best friend and I decided to take a road trip out to Santa Cruz and decided to stay with Uncle Roger in the mountains outside of town. For a couple of girls who grew up in North Highlands, nothing could have prepared us for what to expect. The house appeared to be mounds of cement interspersed with colorful glass bottles, broken ceramic pieces and curious little knick knacks just pushed into the walls. According to my memory of more than 20 years ago, Uncle Roger told me it was built by circus gypsies. Inside, there were far more books than furniture and a strong pachouli smell. I remember they offered us some pizza, which was not like anything I ever saw at Dominoes. I remember feeling some combination of pride/embarrassment that my family was soooo weird.

When it was time to go away to college, I went to University of the Pacific because frankly, they were offering me the best financial deal and although only an hour down the road, hardly anyone from my neighborhood had ever gone there and at that point in my life I desperately wanted to be different. That's probably what made me choose to bring the strange candle Uncle Roger gave me as a graduation gift. It had an Asian drawing on it and the translation read, ¨It's Okay to Wake up Laughing.¨ It's one of the few things that I've taken with me throughout the years and it has helped me through more crisis than I can remember. It's an excellent reminder not to take myself too seriously.

One of of my favorite times with Uncle Roger was him in his playwright glory. He was always very interested in dad's experience in Vietnam and at one point wrote a play about it. If I'm honest, I'll have to admit that when I saw it I was too young to fully appreciate the deeper meaning that I'm sure it was written to convey. What I remember is the awe I felt at seeing these people moving around the stage, saying the words my uncle put to paper. What I remember is my uncle's stage presence as actor-director and the way he was larger than life and demanded all the attention in the room. What I remember is that after the play while the cast was backstage, word spread that I was in fact the niece of the writer and the daughter of the soldier the play was based on and all these young people crowded around me asking questions about what I thought was my pretty mundane family.  It was really cool to see the admiration everyone had for Roger and see the love and light in his personality shine as he came out to hold court.

That's what I'll be thinking about, my dear uncle as I send you my love and wish I could be there to kiss your cheek and look into those beautiful eyes one last time. Thank you for the magic you brought to our lives, to forcing us to see the uncomfortable and question the unfair. Thank you for knowing your truth was more important than playing nice and getting along. I adore you and knowing you has changed me for the better.

And although I know you don't believe in it, I hope you are wrong about heaven, and you end up in a crazy wonderful place with your wife, loads of plays to write and act in and all the chocolate you can eat.