Uncle Dan--the fisherman

My dad's only brother died this week and I was able to drive up to his memorial service. When I heard he was gone, my first thought was "The three little orphans are no longer orphans--their family is all together again." Uncle Dan was the last of the siblings to die. My dad left over 22 years ago and their sister Margie left a few years later. Their parents passed two years apart when my dad was only 8, Dan was 6 and Margie 10. They were split up among various relatives with my dad lucking out by getting to live with a kind woman who grew to truly love him. She became our beloved Grandma. Neither Dan nor Margie was so blessed. Once when telling the story of my grandparents' short lives and tragic deaths, my children over-heard and wondered if it was a book I'd read, but no--it is our family history. So now, the end of the sorrow has come and they are a family reunited.

Uncle Dan loved trout fishing and most of my memories of him involve strings of fish laying on our lawn with us admiring them. It was really good to listen to his grown grandchildren tell amusing stories and realize how much the brothers were alike. My dad didn't get to be a grandpa for very long. We children had produced 18 offspring before he died, but most of them were under eight, and so they don't have the great memories I heard about Grandpa Welch from my cousins' children. I'm happy that they have such terrific memories.

It's interesting to realize that someday my children will recount a synopsis of my childhood to their children. I hope it seems more cheerful than that of my dad and his brother and sister--but it should be. My dad worked hard to provide a "happy" childhood for us. We had two parents all through it, they loved each other, and we always had enough food to eat and clothes to wear. It was everything he didn't get.