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| Uncle Barney and Me |
My stepfather had family that
farmed a section of land in East Texas; as a child we would visit the
farm. The farm belonged to his aunt and
uncle – Uncle Barney; although they were not my family by blood, I claim them by
right of heart. It has been decades since my last visit to that farm; they, and
my parents, have long ago passed from this life.
Their home was a small wood-frame
farmhouse set upon blocks with a metal roof and a wide front porch accessed by
steps that seemed to a 4 year old to go on forever. While they did have
electricity, water was hand pumped to the house from an old style well. There
was a huge barn set back from the house with corrals for Uncle Barney’s team of
mules for plowing and cultivating the farmland; Uncle Barney grew corn and
watermelons for a living. In the monetary sense, Uncle Barney and my Aunt were
by no means wealthy people, but they were wealthy in other ways – it is
impossible to put a dollar value on the love their shared for each other and
those around them. I have thought many times what a shame they were never blessed
with children of their own.
Visits to the farm were always met
with lots of laughter, hugs, and barking dogs running everywhere. First things
first after greetings, Uncle Barney would take my hand and off we would go to
the barn. He stored hay and corn on the cob for his mules in the barn; he would
call the mules up to the barn so I could feed them corn cobs. On many
occasions, hand in hand we would walk through the fields of corn and
watermelons as he checked the status of the crops and quietly talked about life
on the farm. Uncle Barney did not talk much unless it was about farming. At the
end of the day, meals were shared at an old table in their big kitchen and afterwards
we would all sit on the front porch and watch the sunset. When the weather was
bad, after dinner my Aunt would break out the dominos – and all the adults
would play while I watched. My how that lady loved to play dominos – and she
usually won!
When I was 10, my Aunt, and Uncle
Barney left the farm and moved into the city a few blocks from our home. Uncle
Barney could no longer work the farm, he had developed Diabetes – he was blind
and bedridden. The house they lived in was located between our home and the
elementary school I attended. On many afternoons, I would stop by their home to
visit with Uncle Barney on my way home from school. He would ask me to read to
him – the Bible, sections of the newspaper, sometimes from books from my school’s
library; many times he would just hold my hand as he talked about the farm –
planting and harvesting, the years of bad weather, the years of good crops, his
mules. It was obvious even to a 10 year old this was a man who loved the land. And
then one morning Mother told me Uncle Barney has passed away during the night. On
one hand, I was glad he was no longer suffering; on the other hand, I felt his
passing left a big hole in my heart that could never be filled again.
At one point in my teens, I was
going through a particularly stressful time; one night I dreamed of Uncle
Barney and the farm. The dream was so vivid I could feel my hand in his, the
sun and breeze on my face as we walked across the fields, I could smell the
fresh-turned Earth. I heard his voice and although I could not make out the
words, a sense of calm just seemed to flood my mind. When I awoke, the problems
I faced were still there, but they didn’t seem so overwhelming anymore.
Timed passed and I didn’t
actively think of Uncle Barney again until one day years later while driving
home from work alone. Traffic was particularly bad that day – bumper to bumper
– a large box van was in front of me on the roadway; when we came to an
intersection not far from home, the van signaled a left turn. I decided to go
around the van by passing on the right using the shoulder of the road. I pulled
around beside the van and was about to enter the intersection when I heard a
voice screaming at me to stop! I slammed on the brake almost an instant before
a car came barreling through the intersection – the driver of the car had run
the red light. If I had entered the intersection, he would have broadsided my
car on the driver’s side; as fast as he was driving there is no doubt in my
mind I would have been killed that day. I recognized the voice that had spoken
to me.
As we age we tend to reflect upon
the past - remembering people, places, and events that shaped or had an effect
on our lives. Some memories are crisp and some are like fleeting shadows
through our mind that briefly reach out to us at unexpected times and in
unexpected ways. I have often thought about these two particular incidents over
the years and have come to the conclusion that if Guardian Angels are real; I
have one – Uncle Barney.
To this day, there are times when
I can close my eyes and envision that kitchen - the sound of laughter, the
smell of my Aunt’s homemade biscuits. I can hear the rain on that metal roof as
I lay in bed at night. I can hear Uncle Barney calling the mules to the barn
and feel the sun on my face while walking through the fields of watermelons hand
in hand - listening to Uncle Barney’s voice.
Simple, but happy times stay in
the heart and the mind forever!
In loving memory of -
Uncle Barney
Born: October 7, 1900 – Died:
March 16, 1960
Gone but never forgotten!
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