SOML (Pt. 3)

Grandpa and Grandma Bell

They were not really our grandparents. But they filled a corner of our hearts with so much love and joy that my siblings and I would often beg to visit them.

Typically, it would be a Sunday evening after church. We would be playing hide-and-seek tag or some such game on the church lawn. Dad would be gathering his books and papers and Mom would be visiting with a few straggling parishioners.

One of the five older siblings (we had a baby brother) would be nominated by the other four to go ask our parents for permission to visit our "adopted" grandparents. Usually, the evening would be far spent, and it meant going home to bedtime instead. But on occasion, the answer would be satisfactory, and we would gather up into our minivan and travel the three or so blocks to their home.

As a wee lass, I remember waiting with anticipation on their front porch for them to answer our knocks. It often took what seemed an eternity for them to appear on the other side of that glass door. Grandma B. had bad knees and hobbled everywhere and Grandpa B. was a bit hard of hearing.

There is not a ton that I remember from our visits with them because the majority of those visits took place when I was under the age of 7 or so. And most of the memories I do have are foggy at best.

But they are memories colored in a golden haze.

Sitting on their living room floor watching Hallmark movies together while eating snacks from their pantry. (The first time I watched The Magic of Ordinary Days was at their home-- it is now one of my very favorite movies).

Looking at paintings that flowed from the soul of Grandma Bell. I wonder now if she is a facet of the reason I aspired to be an artist from a young age and maybe she would be proud to know I followed in her footsteps.

Chasing and being chased by their giant teddy-bear-hearted dogs Brynn and Chan. I think they were Labradors or some type of sheepdog. I cannot remember which. But they were beautiful. I told myself I wanted dogs that looked and acted like them when I grew up. At that age, most canines scared me so the fact I liked them was a big deal.

Those are some of my most fond memories of childhood. They didn't play with us or anything like that, but they made us feel grown up and important in how they conversed with us-- yet did not overlook our childish tendencies for craving snacks. ;)

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Uncle Greg

Once again, not our blood relative. I am not really sure how my family knew Uncle G. (I think my dad maybe knew him as a kid?). I just know he was around from the time I was less than 2 to the age of about 8. Our interactions with him were sporadic-- especially as time transpired. But we still managed to cram several exciting adventures into those days.

Some of my earliest memories involving Uncle G. were during the duration of the cowboy church. Uncle G. had been a bull rider and knew many who were still in that profession. In a lot of ways, he was the backbone of the cowboy church as many of the attendees were somehow connected to him. I remember he once showed us a spot on his head where a bull had stepped on him. His hair no longer grew there. The first rodeo I ever attended was one for which he took my family.

A running joke with Uncle G. was that he was always planning "day trips". One such trip was when he took us to Dinosaur Valley State Park where we hiked, looked for fossils, and splashed in the water-filled dinosaur footprints that are embedded in the Paluxy River.

A favorite for us ever-hungry kids was when our family would host Uncle G. for dinner-- almost always tostadas-- and he would bring On the Border chips and Hell on the Red salsa. We knew how to eat! ;)

Uncle G. once gifted us some very cool gems. I still have mine-- a tiny garnet, peridot, and an aquamarine. Some day, I would like to get a placement for the garnet in a necklace or some other piece of jewelry.

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Uncle Mal

I believe Uncle M. was a college friend of my dad's brother. But he came into my life around the age of 3 (at least, that's the earliest I can remember). He attended church with us for a period of time. Often, we would have him come to our house for lunch afterward-- usually rice casserole, pot roast, or baked chicken and fixings. If he did come for lunch, a few of us kids would ask to ride with him in his Honda CRV the distance from our church to our house. I remember him blasting The Beatles and Beach Boys. Perhaps he's a reason I love oldies to this very day. Who knows.

And then we would play "football" with him on the quiet street in front of our house. I say we, but I was really much too small to be much use in the games. Often, we recruited one of our neighbor's grandkids to play with us. I think he soon came to view Mal as his "uncle" too.

Uncle Mal would carry Altoids and gum on him, which meant that we would beg for them on the regular. We were also known to purchase them for his birthday and sheepishly ask for a treat back. Shameless, I know! But he was a good sport about it all.

I still remember being at a family camp in the spring and getting the phone call that said Uncle Mal had a heart attack. And he hadn't made it. My brothers especially were affected by his sudden death.

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Uncle Larry

An older lady lived next door to the east of us for the first 5 or so years of living at our second home. I was too young to remember for sure. I guess she must have passed away or been placed in a nursing home, but for whatever reason, the house next store went up for sale.

It took us a few months before we officially met the new neighbor. We were very shy. But us being kids and therefore curious, we would peek through the slats of our fence toward his driveway to see what he was up to outside.

One Sunday, we decided on the drive home from church to stop and introduce ourselves to the new neighbor. Mr. A. was washing his truck, blasting an oldies station. My parents struck up a conversation with him and the rest was history.

Well, not quite. We were still shy and therefore awkward around him for a little while, but that quickly wore off as we got to know how amazing of a person he was!

Having 7 siblings and countless nieces and nephews, he was the ultimate kid-friendly neighbor! We often spent our afternoons at his house, where he taught us various indigenous games (he was Choctaw), ultimate frisbee, badminton, billiards, and other games. We played volleyball at times, and one of my favorites was a team-building game that involved a blindfolded obstacle course race!

Although he was in his 50s at this point, he was still very physically fit and would often climb his trees (these were full-grown oak trees). My siblings were more daring than I and would venture up the limbs after him. If I made it up the tree at all, it was only maybe a dozen feet high. Perhaps my hesitance came from a previous experience of falling out of a tree onto the concrete cinderblock patio below, hurting my knees badly. I still have acrophobia to this day.

Uncle Larry was the closest thing we had to a second dad/the ultimate uncle. He was always invited to our family gatherings, whether it be for birthdays or holidays, family camp or just random outings. Therefore, he met nearly all of our immediate family, as well as some extended family.

Mom's sister has 5 sons, and one summer they (and my aunt) lived with us for several weeks. This meant much time was spent with them over at Uncle Larry's. We had battle reenactments, airsoft wars, and practical jokes. (Uncle Larry was a major jokester/prankster)

One time, we had him join us for the family camp we attended every spring. When I say camp, I mean camp. Tents, campfires, mess hall, and all. This was the same camp I rode a horse for the first time! And a fourwheeler. Fun days!

Uncle Larry had endless patience for us. He gained a huge soft spot in our hearts, especially during a time when our mom was deathly ill. I truly believe the vast majority of my fond childhood memories include him somehow.

We were all devastated when he moved back out of state for his work. We had him over for a farewell dinner, made him a scrapbook of memories, and sent him on his way with tears pooling in our eyes.

Being the prankster he was, Uncle Larry would often surprise us with visits from out of state. I remember one such occasion, I was playing the piano with my back turned to our giant window with a front lawn view. I had a sense that someone was watching me, slightly turned and there was Uncle Larry, trying to spook me out! It did the trick! I jumped, half from startlement, half from excitement. Yelling out that Uncle Larry came to visit!

The years passed by. We moved. This time a couple of hours closer to where Uncle Larry had moved. Funny enough, the town we moved to was where one of Uncle Larry's brothers lived. So this would bring our paths to cross at times.

Uncle Larry has stayed in our hearts and minds over the 18 or so years we've known him. He's attended the weddings of 3 of us kids (including mine), he's met several of my nieces and nephews, came to the housewarming for my husband and me, and we keep up by phone these days. He is definitely part of our family and always will be!