On the list of men who had the most influence on my life as a young man, my father is at the top. Just behind him are my mom’s seven brothers. As a child, I saw these men as a living, breathing team of superheroes! They were The Magnificent Seven, The Avengers, The Justice League! My uncles are a dynamic mix of soldiers, rodeo stars, whatever “top secret” thing Uncle Richard does that we don’t talk about, smooth-talking stand-up comedians, rugged men, who drove cool cars, owned big guns, worked on Hollywood movie sets, married beautiful women (some more than others, but that’s a story for another time) and were larger than life. As of last month, with the passing of my uncle Vincent, the oldest of the seven brothers, three have now gone on to the next life.
I had the honor of officiating the funeral services for uncles Kenneth and Ronald. However, circumstances dictated, that I was unable to attend the service for Uncle Vincent this past weekend. So, I wanted to share a few thoughts and memories here as they have flooded my mind recently.
I heard many stories about my uncle Vincent when I was younger, like the staggering number of times he jumped from an airplane as a special forces paratrooper in the Green Berets (he told me there were many more that he never logged for one reason or another), or my grandmother having to wake him up with a broomstick from across the room because he was a deadly weapon that could easily go off if startled awake. In my eyes, he was better than G.I. Joe and The Six Million Dollar Man combined. Everything about him, the Members Only jacket, the aviator sunglasses, the way he held a cigarette, was too cool! He did tell me to never start smoking cigarettes because those things would kill me. I never asked why he did. I just figured he was immune to things like lung cancer and death. At one point, I thought all the myths about Chuck Norris were inspired by my uncle.
I haven’t been able to spend much time with Uncle Vincent as an adult. He moved to Montana, many years ago. But when I was a kid, he lived in San Bernardino, not far from where we lived in Fontana. Growing up in a big family, in those days, it seemed we always got to see everybody on a regular basis. My grandmother’s house was a gathering place where there was always aunties, uncles, and cousins around when we would visit her on the weekends. I took for granted that this would always be the case, but I now know different, and I’m thankful for all those memories.
When I was 11 years old, Uncle Vincent picked me up to go flying with him in an airplane. As we drove to the little airport in Rialto, CA talking me through all the nerves, an oncoming car briefly swerved into our lane. I shouted some expression of panic, but Uncle Vincent was cool as a cucumber. He proceeded to explain to me all the tactical maneuvers he would have made if that car came just a foot further into our path.
After teaching me how to do a proper pre-flight check on the Cessna aircraft, we were speeding down the runway. I was wide-eyed in disbelief that this little plane was taking us into the air, but it didn’t take long for the nerves to wear off and the giggling started. It was incredible. . . for a moment. Then. . .
Uncle Vincent: Take the stick!
Me: What?!? I don’t know how to fly this thing. You’re the pilot!
Uncle Vincent: And what happens if we’re up here and I have a heart attack? Or a stroke?
Me: Do you feel like you’re having a heart attack?
Uncle Vincent (letting his head slump down to his chest): No, but those things sneak up on you. And then what are you gonna do? So, if you’re gonna fly with me, you need to know how to land this plane.
And that was how my flying lessons began. That day, I learned how to communicate with the airport tower, how to land the plane and take off again. I was terrified at first, but his confidence in me or his ability to teach me or both, bolstered my confidence. That whole next week, you couldn’t tell me nothing! I flew an airplane! We went up several more times over a few years. At one point, he tried to convince me to get my pilot’s license before I got my driver’s license!
Uncle Vincent: You know…you should get your pilot’s license before you get your driver’s license.
Me: Why? I can’t take a plane to school every day.
Uncle Vincent: Just imagine picking up a girl to take her out on a date and then flying her up the coast for a dinner by the beach.
(I’m sure every father of a teenage girl is just waiting for a 16-year-old to come through with “Hello, Sir! I’m gonna put your daughter in a small aircraft and fly her up to Santa Barbara for dinner.” Right?)
Me: I just want to go to the movies and get some tacos. I don’t need a plane for that.
I got older. My understanding of mortality developed along with a fear of falling from great heights. He moved away, and with him went any thought of ever having a pilot’s license. But the memory of those times we spent navigating the skies over the Inland Empire will last forever. I still think about him every time I drive by that little airport. I loved him and hoped to be half the man he was when I grew up.
And, I know, of all the nieces and nephews he had, I was his favorite. I know many of my cousins could make a good argument that they were his favorite. But, that’s just the thing about Uncle Vincent. He was all about whoever he was with. He made sure you knew he loved you and made you feel like you were his favorite person on Earth in that moment. I am thankful for the time I had with him in this life, and I look forward to seeing him in the next.
“16For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. 17 Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. 18 Therefore encourage one another with these words.” – 1 Thessalonians 4:16-18
The Stray Shepherd 