Thanksgiving and my Uncle Neil- (Excerpt from 'Our Ohio Story'.

                           My Uncle Neil

 Uncle Neil was a kind of legend in our family. He was a small man who had odd habits that sometimes puzzled and frustrated our side of the Wilson tribe.

  Neil was married to my father’s sister Janie, and I was never certain if she was a sister, or a step sister to my father. There was some kind of distance, yet strangely a bond between them, but my father was such a reticent and sometimes surly man, I was never able to gather the courage to question exactly what was going on. We would get together with Aunt Janie and Uncle Neil for holidays, and I would listen closely when they talked for any information that would clear the matter up for me. Instead of sharing stories about their childhood, the small ‘remember when?’ stuff that gives children insights about their parents everything was kept within the range of the moment. They were like people stuck on an elevator for a few uncomfortable minutes waiting for the time to pass. The best answer I had to this riddle was my father and Aunt must have shared a lousy childhood or had a terrible falling out at one time.

  Aunt Janie was a sweet and kind pleasantly obese Aunt who seemed to have been born with a look of sudden surprise or astonishment on her face. Being my father’s sister, she shared Dad’s bright intense blue eyes, but the resemblance stopped there. My Dad’s eyes had a very singular aspect that denoted fixity of purpose, or indignation at the world around him. As children, we were never really sure when he was boiling mad at everyone and everything or just needed more roughage in his diet.

   In contrast, Aunt Janie’s eyes though roughly similar, always seemed wide open with a look of childlike wonder and curiosity. Aunt Janie sometimes had trouble following what was going on about her, and was given over to odd silences that made conversations difficult. Dad claimed she was “a little forgetful”; but Mom preferred to call her “just crazy”.

  But let’s get back to Uncle Neil. Neil was a small man with slightly greying hair, who made a habit of over dressing for family get-togethers. He paid much attention to his hair, had neatly manicured nails, and was always closely shaved. Quiet and reserved, he was always courteous but somehow remote.

  Every year Mom and Dad would gather for Thanksgiving or Christmas visits with Aunt Janie and Uncle Neil for a big meal, a long afternoon of drinking beer and euchre. The card game euchre was the highlight of the day, though the game was often interrupted because Aunt Janie often forgot whose turn it was, or trump her partner’s lead during card play.  Traditionally, the big event was planned weeks in advance, with phone calls exchanged, a date set, and the big meal planned. Dad left the logistics to Mom and she engineered how to move five kids, the green bean casseroles, carrot salads, and candied yams in the old station wagon for the trip to St. Marys, Ohio.  

 
  But there was another annual tradition strictly observed that was the most fun for us kids to watch. Everyone in the family knew Uncle Neil was wily cheapskate, and he practiced his craft whenever possible. Somehow Uncle Neil would always find a way to stiff my Dad for most of the costs of the holiday meal. Every year Dad would swear on the long drive to St. Marys that Uncle Neil would not ‘nail him this time’. My father, a serious and self-possessed man never saw it coming, and was always undone, much to our enjoyment.

   It always started simply enough like this: We would arrive for the big holiday meal and Uncle Neil would turn to my Dad and say; “Jack, I’m a little low on gas in my car, can we take yours and pick up some more soda?”

  Dad would of course say yes, and we would go to the grocery store and pick up pop, and Uncle Neil would decide we needed a case or two of beer, some more pretzels, coleslaw, and they were also out of milk; he remembered suddenly. Generally the grocery cart would be full by the time we made it to the checkout stand.

  All the goodies were loaded onto the grocer’s belt and totaled up, and Dad looked up and discovered Uncle Neil was gone. A few uncomfortable minutes would pass as more customers would line up behind us waiting for their turn. My sisters and I would exchange knowing glances, trying hard not to laugh and Dad reluctantly swore and paid the bill. By the time we loaded the groceries in the car Uncle Neil would suddenly appear saying:

“I had to get some chips! Golly, Jack you didn’t have to do that, we will settle up when we get home, OK?” But, of course he never did.

  The tradition lasted for years and last time I recall going to St. Marys for Thanksgiving dinner Aunt Janie met us at the door and seemed confused and surprised at our appearance. Even though Mom and Janie had exchanged phone calls weeks before about Thanksgiving dinner, Janie had somehow forgotten. Uncle Neil, my sisters and Dad all went to the grocery store and bought enough beer and food to put together a big Thanksgiving meal for everyone.

  At the checkout stand I watched Dad’s face as Uncle Neil hastily explained he somehow forgot to bring his wallet along and was surprised to see Dad smile. I never understood why, but at the time I was a child and had little understanding of the real meaning of Thanksgiving and family.