Letter to the editor

It is with a heavy heart that I report my uncle has passed away at 86. His official cause of death was lung cancer, but the real cause was heartbreak -- his wife of 45 years passed away just a month before. His dementia had progressed to the point where he didn't remember much, but every time he woke he thought of his wife and then remembered she was gone, and you could see the light in his eyes go dark. They fought like cats and dogs, they were completely dysfunctional, and yet I don't know two people who loved, or needed, each other more. Neither could have survived the other, and in a way I'm glad my aunt went first--I could not have handled her grief. I met my uncle for the first time when I was 9 or 10, and did not see him again until I was 25. Of that first visit all I remember was I was up early (no doubt having an asthma attack) and he woke up early (probably nursing a hangover) and suggested we go to the local Waffle House. I must have really been suffering "middle child syndrome" because I only remember how special that made me feel. I think he had that effect on most people. I learned later that he couldn't boil an egg; otherwise he might have cooked at home and that morning would have been much different. That visit was cut short by my father's first heart attack, and I didn't see my uncle again until after my father had passed away, 15 years later. What I learned from my father's death is that you have to hold people close; there just isn't time in the world for petty nonsense, benign neglect, or apathy. To paraphrase, love big or go home. At that point my uncle was 69, and he'd seen a lot of life. At 14 his mother had died. At 17 he joined the Navy, despite the fact that he couldn't swim. (As he put it, they were in the middle of the Atlantic--where was he going to swim to?) After the European theatre ended, he was moved to the Pacific theatre, before he was discharged at 20. He ended up selling electronic calculators back when they were big and expensive beasts, which is how he left Connecticut, living in Georgia, Florida, and California before returning to Georgia. When Casio introduced the 'disposable' calculators and everyone else saw the writing on the wall, my uncle doubled-down and started a company to service existing calculators. Needless to say, he lost his shirt. For a while he worked as a car salesman but his hearing got so bad he couldn't even talk to customers, and he ended up doing security work. (Ironic, eh?) He also did occasional work as a substitute teacher, which he likened to security work--he was there to keep them quiet and docile. Eventually the hearing got the best of him there, as well, and he was forced to "officially" retire when he was about 75. From that point is was really only a matter of time. He lived in the countryside, and the only things that mattered to him were his wife, his house, and his dog. His wife was never healthy, and as a result he would rarely go out -- the only people he saw with regularity were his neighbor and his doctor. I visited from California once a year, although we spoke often. I can relate many anecdotes, such as when I bought him a computer and while I was trying to show him how to use it he kept lifting the mouse up and waving it at the monitor. I was certain he was never going to figure it out, but by the time I got home I had an email from him. By the end of the week, I had 60 more. On his 70th birthday, in the middle of the day he announced he was going to take a nap. Then he said to me in a conspiratorial whisper, "I didn't used to get so tired when I was in my 60s." Often he made jokes that were so subtle, it would take me several minutes to recognise them. Other times he would say things so outrageous, I would blush. And yet, in all the years I knew him, and all the hardships he endured, there was never an undercurrent of anger or bitterness. He loved people and he loved life, and it showed. He often asked me to come live with him, and I often asked him to move to California. When his wife passed away, I finally won, and he went to California. Unfortunately it was all too much for him, and he passed away peacefully two weeks later. He is survived by his sister, his step-daughter and grandson, two nephews and a niece. But mostly he is survived by the memories of all the people he touched. He was never famous, never rich, never successful, and yet a prime example that none of that actually matters. What counts is character, and he had that in spades.

Well, as expected, there was no lack of post election elation forthcoming
from right wing political pundits, ergo Cal Thomas and Kathleen Parker,
who hastened to point out to we losers how and why we came to get that way.Cal included in his reasoning "that Democrats have not had a good idea in years....or even a good old idea." All they know is class warfare." Kathleen, a gentler version of right wing  perveyer of the righteous word,
deduced that it was a clear message from the people that it was basically a rejection of President Obama's policies without necessarily holding him personally responsible for the lousy economy . Of course there were a multitude of other reasons. What saved the day for me was the letter to the editor appearing on the same page from Bob Berlon of Buford. I don't know Bob's party choice, but his bottom line assessment that until all parties learned to work to-gether and appreciate the value of the person across from us, nothing is going to work  registered big time with me.
Good show, Bob.

George A. Morin
Auburn