(Photo of Uncle Chuck by request.)
Hello again. I want to tell you about my Uncle Chuck; my mom's little brother. He's 4 times her size, but he is 17 years younger - this evidently qualifies him as 'little' in my mom's eyes. He lives in my gramma's house in Rochester, New York. This is the house he was born in about 66 years ago and it doesn't look like he'll be going anywhere. He is a very dear and unusual man; although his area of the house is a housekeeping disaster to say in the least. He watches the old TV shows from the 50s and 60s - the same shows I heard him watching on TV when I was a little girl sleeping in the little room next to my gramma and grampa's room. While the TV is blaring, he also has a police radio on, as he has ever since I can remember. The police radio is so raw and grating it has to be the donkey on the broadcast farm, but after so many years it almost sounds like 'home' to me. So, with a background of Petticoat Junction or I Love Lucy playing on TV, I hear, 'Squawk! Disturbance at 63 Chestnut. Some sort of wildlife in living room...' 'Squawk! 30 year old white female adult is stuck 40 feet up a tree.' Now, when I visit him, I sleep one more flight up - in the attic. It's weird that the sounds emanating from downstairs when I'm falling asleep are the same sounds I heard 50 years ago. Me and a few other generous souls believe he has difficulty functioning in this world, so we try to help him. He thinks he does just fine. He hates it that we think he can't handle things, but he also suspects there might be some truth in our perceptions so he is not will to risk this support dropping out, so he puts out an effort to love us in spite of it. Some of my friends drive to Omega or Kripalu for a spiritual journey - I tell them that visiting my Uncle Chuckie is my spiritual journey. And I mean it. On a few occasions Jason or Harry or my friend, Mame have journeyed with me and from listening to their stories, I thnk they would agree. To show me his love he sends me these little paintings on 81/2 x 11 printer paper that are folded in envelopes and I want to share them with you. The top one - 'Comedian with Blond Wig' he gave me for Christmas. On the back it says, 'Merry Christmas. $10.00.'
More paintings from Uncle Chuck:
And... the teacher! In honor of the end of the school year!
By popular demand I have more artwork from Uncle Chuck. If you'd like to purchase a piece just call him at 585 663 0592. They are $15 plus postage. I don't think you will be sorry, he'd be thrilled and it will help him out. The titles of these are 'A Beatle', 'Farm girl' , and 'Vote'.
(Photo of Uncle Chuck by request.)
Hello again. I want to tell you about my Uncle Chuck; my mom's little brother. He's 4 times her size, but he is 17 years younger - this evidently qualifies him as 'little' in my mom's eyes. He lives in my gramma's house in Rochester, New York. This is the house he was born in about 66 years ago and it doesn't look like he'll be going anywhere. He is a very dear and unusual man; although his area of the house is a housekeeping disaster to say in the least. He watches the old TV shows from the 50s and 60s - the same shows I heard him watching on TV when I was a little girl sleeping in the little room next to my gramma and grampa's room. While the TV is blaring, he also has a police radio on, as he has ever since I can remember. The police radio is so raw and grating it has to be the donkey on the broadcast farm, but after so many years it almost sounds like 'home' to me. So, with a background of Petticoat Junction or I Love Lucy playing on TV, I hear, 'Squawk! Disturbance at 63 Chestnut. Some sort of wildlife in living room...' 'Squawk! 30 year old white female adult is stuck 40 feet up a tree.' Now, when I visit him, I sleep one more flight up - in the attic. It's weird that the sounds emanating from downstairs when I'm falling asleep are the same sounds I heard 50 years ago. Me and a few other generous souls believe he has difficulty functioning in this world, so we try to help him. He thinks he does just fine. He hates it that we think he can't handle things, but he also suspects there might be some truth in our perceptions so he is not will to risk this support dropping out, so he puts out an effort to love us in spite of it. Some of my friends drive to Omega or Kripalu for a spiritual journey - I tell them that visiting my Uncle Chuckie is my spiritual journey. And I mean it. On a few occasions Jason or Harry or my friend, Mame have journeyed with me and from listening to their stories, I thnk they would agree. To show me his love he sends me these little paintings on 81/2 x 11 printer paper that are folded in envelopes and I want to share them with you. The top one - 'Comedian with Blond Wig' he gave me for Christmas. On the back it says, 'Merry Christmas. $10.00.'
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