The Best “Uncle” I Never Had
From Trash to Treasures
Uncle Bob came into my life driving a half-ton bearing signs of countless trips to the local dump. You’d think a guy might not be able to load enough discarded stuff into the bed to make the job financially viable. But Uncle Bob – the moniker he gives himself in ads in our local, small-town shopper – has many talents. Among them is spatial acuity and the ability to balance anything atop a table leg. He shows up in a signature flannel shirt, working man’s khakis, and a cap stained with time and toil.
My husband and I circle round to help him load – there’s some heavy, awkward junk in our pile. Uncle Bob slows us down with a calming voice. ”Now, I don’t want you to rush,” he says. “Take your time. I’m never in a hurry. We’ve got plenty of room.”
Uncle Bob is old enough to be a great-grandparent. Yet, one of his biggest concerns is the “seniors” in his community. “You know,” he says to me, “Some of those seniors just don’t even have the means to provide for themselves.” So – as a determined agemate – he takes items that might be useful to folks not as active as he is to strategic spots where someone in need might make good use of them. Senior communities, trailer parks, and such.
Uncle Bob assesses my messy pile of items that range from crushed boxes to unloved furniture and board games we meant to play and never did. He slips on work gloves and starts loading, seemingly without a plan. When my husband questions the ability of his rig to carry the huge load we have, Uncle Bob smiles and reassures us it will be a “piece of cake.”
I know that behind his humble appearance, there’s a lifetime of personal and financial success. He’s an old-school entrepreneur with online savvy and a way with people. In earlier years, he worked with California’s transportation agency and later branched out to entrepreneurial ventures.
“I sell six or seven programs and mail out 200 or 300 letters a month to people all over the U.S. and Canada,” he explains. “It helps people make extra money. ” Leapfrogging from that early success, he launched into a life-changing venture. “Then I got into real estate, and I bought properties here and there, and I’d flip them, you know. That was back when you could buy 50 or 60 acres for forty-thousand dollars.” He arranges a broken chair atop the growing pile and stuffs a decorative pillow between the legs. “I have the gift of gab – which you can probably tell.” He laughs at his confession. “That was back in the 80s. You can’t do that now,” he adds. He reports all this while simultaneously loading large and small items, nestling them together like a 3D puzzle master. He makes a place for everything – from tables and chairs to kids’ toys, building materials, lampshades, and no longer-loved clothes.
He philosophizes while topping the spontaneous sculpture. “Anyway, I think people should work until they’re 150,” (insert one of many chuckles). “So long as they enjoy what they’re doing! That’s what I told my daughters. I said, find out what you enjoy doing and then add value to it. And you’ll never have to work another day in your life!”
My husband is glancing up at the marvelous mound that’s reaching well over cab height. Uncle Bob reassures him. “No worry. It’s all good.” Another chuckle spills out as he starts to tie down the load. He’s using a thin rope – one that I might use to tie a return package to Amazon.
Circling the truck and looking for crevices to fill with pieces of old lumber, Uncle Bob tells me he’s looking forward to the afternoon. He’s got it perfectly planned to include what he calls a “treat.”
“It’s my football day,” he says through a smile. “I love juicing! I got apples, carrots, parsley, cucumber. I make a big bunch and put ice in it, and it lasts me through the whole football game. That’s my treat.” His face beams with excitement.
He continues - “Once you start juicing, you feel so good!” He contrasts his treat with the common American snack – meat and cheese. ”You’re getting everything you need, and it’s all concentrated. I’m having a great affair with my juicing machine.” He laughs and launches into beatitudes of juicing as a hobby. ”I study it on my computer. I mix vegetables with fruit – l sometimes the vegetables don’t taste so good – like spinach.” He makes a sour face. “You just add apple to it, and you don’t even taste the spinach. I do a lot of research.”
He tucks the end of the rope deep into the pile and circles around his pickup. Satisfied, Uncle Bob slips off his work gloves and says, “Well, Darby, I think we got it. I’m glad you remembered me.”
As if I could forget? I say, “You’re unforgettable.”
He chuckles. “I’ve had people tell me that!”
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Thanks sigrid… he is. Very quotable fellow. I usually smile straight through every encounter with him!
Great story, Darby. Great quotes! I always told my journalism students to include quotes, many quotes.