Farewell Uncle Marvin

"Uncle" Marvin is not my uncle. He is the uncle of a good friend. I have had the honor of referring to him as uncle these past few years that he has lived in Saint Louis.

Uncle Marvin, has had a long and interesting life. He is the age my father would be were my father still alive. He served in the Merchant Marines during WWII. He has old-school values and old-school racism. It is the type of racism that "tolerates" other races as long as they are in their places. Places like serving, sports, and in their own countries of origin. He does not shy away from using racial epitaphs such as wop, dago, wetback, the n word, and colored. Despite this fact, he has many friends of color and of foreign national origin. Those friends seem to be of the same vintage, and thus, understand him.

I have also had the privilege of checking in on Marvin from time to time when his nephew has been traveling. The way we check on him, without him knowing we are checking on him is to bring him dinner, or stop by to fix his dinner. We chat, check his pill box and refill as needed. He usually has us reheat some past days' dinner that was delivered by a meal delivery service. He gripes that it costs too much and that they put in stuff he would never eat--if he weren't paying for it. He loves a bargain. So, when I go to check on Marvin, he lets me know about a 79 cent bargain burrito at Taco Bell, or a 99 cent meal from the Colonel or some other fast food joint. Dessert is always the same: some soft ice cream in a cup with a dash of Gatorade.

Marvin is a curmudgeon. He is my hero. There is not a bit of good news he can't dismiss with a shrug and a a "we'll see how that turns out". He loves to tell stories about his family members which I would never repeat where they could hear them. He loves the women, but only married once and divorced during the War. Believe it or not, he married a Mexican. He has led a full life, but his last few years here, in Saint Louis, probably were meant to enhance our lives, not his.

I know many of my friends were influenced by a book entitled: Tuesdays with Morrie. Time spent with Marvin was just as splendid. Marvin was discovered a few days ago in his apartment, suffering the effects of a stroke, by his great nephew, David. David could not get Marvin to respond to the door bell to buzz him in. Once he gained entrance by someone leaving the building, David found Uncle Marvin was in bed and unable to speak or move. He had had a stroke.

This wasn't Marvin's first stroke. Indeed he regaled me with the awfulness of growing old with each visit. When he heard I had a heart attack, he told me: "First comes the heart attack, than the stroke, say good-bye to your sex life, you end up with cataracts and deaf, your memory wains and eventually someone has to help you take a ________!" "Getting old is awful" he would say "but then it beats the alternative."

Uncle Marvin was part of that "Greatest Generation". So few from that generation remain, I am glad to have shared some moments with one of them. Uncle Marvin is being cared for by hospice and his family. They expect him to meet his maker in a matter of days. If you think of it, say a little prayer for Marvin. If you get the chance, find a Marvin or Morrie or Martha or Margaret from that Greatest Generation to share a little time with. You won't regret it.

Goodbye Uncle Marvin. I'll miss you.