my little ship of dreams
This morning, I read something that made me think of my Uncle Ron. I have written about him before — he was the closest thing I had to a father growing up. Well, my grandfather was, too. But, Gargon was an old man by the time I was born. Uncle Ron was not.
Uncle Ron was married to my mom’s little sister. We lost Aunt Cak in 2000, after a valiant battle with cancer. She was only 53. Uncle Ron lost his shit, and never recovered from the loss. They had gotten married young — Aunt Cak still in her teens — and weathered many a storm together. My cousin Rhonda, two years younger than me, was born while Uncle Ron was in Vietnam.
She was months old by the time they met.
Uncle Ron told me about Vietnam a few times, on camping trips, late at night when no one else was still around the fire. I was the oldest, and we had a really special bond. Sometimes, he would take me out fishing on Baker Lake, just me and him in that little boat. He would call me Carrots, or Kooks, and never got mad when I lost a fish or was too scared to clean what we caught.
I really loved him. A lot.
Uncle Ron smoked weed, a habit he picked up in Vietnam, even though Aunt Cak disapproved. He also had a giant fish tank, and an amazing stereo system. He played the hell out of that Heart record, blasting it when it was just us kids and him hanging out at the house in Bothell, near the dairy.
You know, the house where the neighbor Maury lost his mind in a hang gliding accident, and became a Bigfoot hunter. You shoulda seen that big cage he built for the sasquatch, and put in the woods in the field behind the backyard. It was awesome.
That picture above is from the 4th of July, 1979. Uncle Ron is drinking his signature drink — Black Velvet and Coke — and the look on his face is one I will never forget. My first real job I ever had was running the office at his auto shop in Greenwood. Ron’s Automotive, just down the street from the Kort Haus. To this day, I love the smell of auto shops and garages.
Uncle Ron died a few years ago, under sad circumstances. He never got over his broken heart. I still miss him, and sure wish I could tell him how much he meant to me.
Filed under: Uncategorized | 5 Comments
I like it when you tell family stories.
oh Kerri- I remember Uncle Ron as a big, genial bear of a man. so sorry to hear he’s gone as well. I didn’t realize that Rhonda and Arron have been orphaned so young. spoke to yer darling sis today- so great to reconnect
love you
m
jaysus! just a perusal n i’m in tears…not gonna read it right now, maybe later.
love you le’
I miss my grandpa or what I remember of him. One thing I wont forget though, he taught me how to draw the middle finger. Ahhh I love him. <3
Oh, Caitie. Your grandpa would be so proud of you. He was such a great influence on me. He taught me to always stand up for myself, and to always enjoy life, even in the simplest of situations. And, yeah, he could really flip the bird. I miss him.