As I opened a box of old faded photographs, an 8”x10” picture in a sturdy cardboard frame fell to the floor. Picking it up, I chuckled when I saw it.
There they were—my father and his seven brothers. My crazy uncles. They were wearing suits so I’d guess they’d been at a funeral. Their normal attire was overalls. Their solemn faces also were normal since the Becker brothers were well known for their dry humor. They could and often did make the most outrageous statements with a straight face. Their twinkling eyes were the give-away.
Looking at the picture, probably taken sometime in the 1960ies, made me realize how lucky I am to have grown up with these men in my childhood world.
They taught me a lot. Mostly—I learned not to be gullible. Uncle Henry might say, “Look out for that snake!” I didn’t fall for that trick too many times before I decided to take him with a grain of salt. That philosophy served me well since each and every uncle was capable of being a trickster.
I didn’t feel thankful for my uncles, however, when I was young. I saw them as a cross to bear, even though I was not alone. The uncles teased all the nieces and nephews equally. No matter what the occasion, wedding, funeral, or family get-together, we youngsters could count on being teased by an uncle. No sneaking past these guys.
They also taught me to be tough. One of my childhood memories is the gauntlet that I often had to walk through when all eight of the brothers were sitting in a circle in my grandmother’s living room. They were telling stories, one of their favorite pastimes, but that didn’t stop one or the other of them from calling my name. “Joanie!” An uncle would boom out in a deep voice. “Tell us about your new boyfriend!” I shuddered and wanted to sink through the floor, but I learned it was best to confront them and get the teasing over with.
My uncles sounded scary with their deep voices and all, yet they actually were soft touches. They loved babies and little children. They were hard-working farmers and very devout. They loved to sing hymns and formed impromptu quartettes as they gathered around my grandmother’s piano in her living room. They often sang in the local churches.
My uncles might sound a bit harsh to today’s touchy-feely world, but they were decent, trustworthy men.
As an adult, I sometimes visited the small farm community where many relatives lived. I always brought my young children. I could count on my uncles to tell them stories, to give them a pink peppermint candy or two and, yes, tease them just a bit.
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