Romeyn and I are on the road to Westerville, Ohio. Quintin and Darren have agreed to watch the cats for us, and give them not only food and water, but quality attention. I have set the extended-absence response in my work email account. My black dresses and black shoes are packed up. We've been on the road since seven in the morning, and we're not due to arrive for another few hours.
I've spent the last few weeks coping with a great number of changes in my life, up to and including the enormous Uncle Jim shaped hole in the world. He and I were like oil and water when I was little--past-me, a tiny liberal--him, not so much. Romeyn is more or less the reason why we got along so well over the past almost-decade. Nothing gives you a better appreciation for your family like the relatively unbiased viewpoint of someone meeting them for the first time. Romeyn and I had only been going out for a month or so before he met most of my extended family on my mom's side.
Uncle Jim was a good man. He was skilled in metal-work, he was well-read and outspoken in his views in a uniquely Uncle-Jim kind of way. He reminded me of my Grandfather Houf (Waldo Emerson Houf, or "Popie") in more than a few ways. The expectations of gender-roles prevalent during his childhood did not bar him from self-expression, and I admired that greatly.
I'm reading a book right now about how to care less about everything, but I won't care less about Uncle Jim.
Rest in peace, old man. You are missed forever.
