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Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Shorter Than A Yardstick, Taller Than A Tree

     Not every family tree has a giant.  But ours did.  I remember when I first met him.  I was five and shorter than a yardstick.  He was the biggest creature I had ever stood next to.  His knees were higher than my head and to say I was scared would be an understatement.  You've heard that someone can be so frightened, they wet their pants?  Well, not quite, but it certainly wouldn't have taken much more to push me to that point.

     I used to think that Aunt Bess must have searched the entire earth to find a giant to marry.  Even when I had reached my full height potential of five feet, he was enormous.  Standing a full 6'8", my uncle could easily have done damage without even realizing it.  But his manner was so gentle and he was so easy-going that I learned to love him as much as anyone else in my family; truth be told, a little more than some.   But that's another story.

     Uncle Goliath (no, not his real name, but appropriate, don'tcha' think?) used to like to hand out silver dollars.  He actually started that practice before he married Aunt Bess.  Whenever we hadn't seen him in awhile, he'd flash that impish grin, reach into his pockets and say, "Now, I wonder what I might find in these pockets?"

     Then, one at a time, he'd pull out a silver dollar and hand it to one of us children.  We never knew who would be next to receive the huge coin, but we always knew he had one for each of us.  In those days, silver money was quite common.  Dimes, quarters, half-dollars and dollars were all made from silver and it never occurred to any of us to save them for another day.  No, we quickly rushed to the closest candy store and traded our silver treasure for something sweet and little more palatable.

     I often think about my dear uncle and wish I could have just one more hug from him.  He gave the best hugs.  I know I'll see him again, but some days I think how nice it would be if we could just sit and chat for awhile.

     I also have an Uncle David; certainly not a giant.  Someday, I'll tell you the story of David and Goliath.  We have many stories of interest in our family tree, as I'm sure you do, too.  I do hope you are taking the time to record those family tales for your children and their children 'cause no one else knows 'em like you do.

     Until the next time, keep a hug on.

 ~ Yaya


Sharon K. Mayhew said...

Yaya--I was raised pretty poor (really poor) and my Mum and Step-dad had a really old hotel. My Step-dad's Uncle Curt would stay with us. He would pay me 25 cents to carry his bag up to his room. I wish I could get one more hug from him...He was someone who gave me a feeling like I was someone special. :)

Yaya' s Home said...

Aaaaw, Sharon, isn't it great when we have special people like that in our lives? I know we'll see 'em again, but I am not a patient person; I wanna' see 'em now. Only, I don't wanna' go there to see 'em... yet. LOL

~ Yaya

K9friend said...

I think there's a story lurking featuring you and your uncle!


Bossy Betty said...

What a sweet post about your uncle!

Yaya' s Home said...

Thanks, Pat. I've been rolling the idea of a story around for awhile, now, actually.

Betty, I wish you all could have known my uncle. He was one of the nicest people, ever.

~ Yaya

Blissitydoodah said...

Miss Yaya...I just lost my special uncle last week. He was a circus collector from waaaayy back and has in his collection the wedding ring of a real giant! :)

Yaya' s Home said...

Hello Miss Blissetydoodah. I'm very happy you stopped by, but I'm sorry to hear about your uncle's passing.

What an interesting hobby he had. I'd love to see that ring. P'rhaps you could blog about it sometime? I recall that my own uncle's pinky ring would fit around my sister's wrist when she was born. Rather, I recall the family stories about it. Huge hands, he had.

~ Yaya

Blissitydoodah said...

I am gonna ask if that ring went into the museum with his other circus items (I'll bet my aunt won't know) I haven't gotten the courage yet to go see the museum display. It all went down kind of sadly...the transfer of the things. A "clown" showed up from outta town claiming the collection was going home with him. Then we called the local historian to see if he could help discern my uncle's wishes...this doesn't even sound true!

Yaya' s Home said...

Oh, that is sad, but I believe it. Its just too bad when someone comes in and kinda' lays-claim to things that are actually treasures within a family.

My grandparents were in vaudeville and I only wish I could find some kind of information about them. All I really know is that my grampa' got his name because he was a roller skater of many talents, including dancing. When he was just a tiny little boy, he would do the sideways splits on the backs of ladder-back chairs and Wow the crowds. I'll hafta' write a post about him. His wife, my Nana, was an aerial artiste. She swung from a strap held in her teeth, high, high above the ground. I have pictures of him, but without the roller skates.

Good luck in getting the ring and other treasures back.

~ Yaya

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