Remembering Uncle Jim

My Uncle Jim died Friday. I just found out. It brings a sorrow to my heart. I haven't seen my Uncle for several years. When my Aunt Nancy was ill with ALS he wouldn't let me come to see her. He wanted me to remember her as she was before she got sick. I wanted to see her, I wanted to be with her. I remembered her kindness to me as a child, touching me with loving touches. The only touches I remember receiving as a child. I remembered visiting her apartment in the Bronx just after she married my Uncle and the fish aquarium in the apartment. I remembered the time she brought home Maryann and proudly wheeling her about in the carriage. She wanted children and they wouldn't come, then Maryann, beautiful little Maryann came home, then Brian. I really don't recall Brian very much. Years after Maryann, Aunt Nancy was finally pregnant and the sweet, precious Kelly arrived.

Uncle Jim was the story teller. Boy, he could spin a yarn that would scare you silly. He was involved with the boy scouts for years and years. He loved the boy scouts. He loved to tell them the scary stories at night, in the dark, sitting around the campfire. He would tell the stories to me and my four brothers...."the hand"...oh would we jump, scared to pieces every time.I remember pitching pennies in the corner of my Aunt Vieno's apartment on Perry Ave in the Bronx.

She was really my gramma. My mother's mom died before I was born and grampa remarried a beautiful young teacher from Minnesota. She became Aunt Vieno. A more gracious and lovely lady I do not think every lived. Growing up we went to her apartment about once a month for Sunday dinner. It was so special. The table set with her finest China. Uncle Jim told us stories and pitched pennies. Aunt Vieno made peanut butter and bacon appetizers for us and set a special table for the children.

I spent many weeks with Aunt Vieno and Grampa when my folks would go off skiing in Canada. I loved being with my gramma, except for going down into the basement of the apartment building. That is where the laundry was done. It wasn't very nice and to a young girl frightening. I would never go down there alone. During those visits after Uncle Jim married I would walk down the street to visit with my beautiful Aunt Nancy.

I loved my Aunt Nancy and Uncle Jim. He was my mother's brother. He was Irish and Aunt Nancy came from a big loving Irish family. She was beautiful, very beautiful.

Uncle Jim got remarried after Aunt Nancy died. I never did meet his wife. Her name was Jane. I wanted to see Uncle Jim, but things changed when he remarried and I was not able to contact him. I missed him, I missed Aunt Nancy.

Now they are all gone. As the cousins got older we lost contact. Now I feel as if my family is gone. It makes me very sad.