“That Reminds Me of the Time...”

Oh, that twinkle in his eye.

That's when you knew Uncle Roy was busting to tell you a groaner of a joke. The instant you finished talking, he would put down his cigar, stroke the stubble on his cheeks, and say, "That reminds me of the time..." And he would tell you an anecdote from his day, ending with a corny punchline and a deep-down guffaw (his) and a snort (his also).

Uncle Roy was larger than life to this kid. Even when he wasn't around, he came to mind when I heard a trite joke.

But as I grew older, I saw Uncle Roy and his family less and less. I had my own family and told my own crummy jokes, but without his signature ending. That part stayed with me, but the rest of his image had faded from memory.

When Uncle Roy passed, I went to his funeral and briefly recalled those stubbled cheeks, the stogie, the punchlines, the laughing at his own jokes. But when I left the sendoff, the faint red light from his cigar ceased to glow. And soon, every shard of Uncle Roy was gone.

Even the snort.