Uncle Hal's Wake

Last Friday, I went to the wake of my Great-Uncle Hal. It was good to spend time remembering him with my family and extended family. At the wake, I re-acquainted myself with Uncle Hal’s children and grandchildren (my second cousins), and through visiting his living legacy I gained an even greater respect for his life. My kind second cousins invited me to dine with them on Saturday evening at Shaw’s Crab House in the Loop; I was glad to join them and get to know my own extended family a little better, while also taking the time to share my one significant memory of Uncle Hal with some of his children and grandchildren. As I told the story below, they shared with me that Uncle Hal loved and missed my grandfather very much, and they were sure he was delighted to have helped me with my Swedish adventure. I think it was good for all of us to share our memories and our love of family. I pray that they are finding peace with the loss of a great man, father and grandfather. With that said, my memory of Uncle Hal follows:

Good Luck Kid
About this time last year I was greatly looking forward to my first trip to Sweden. I was going to be working for two weeks in Falun, three hours west and north from Stockholm. Since my great-great grandparents came over from Sweden in the 1880s, I wanted to see what I could learn about them so that I might visit their place of origin.

I went to visit my Grandma Dorothy to ask her what she knew about my Grandpa Charles’ Swedish grandparents. She knew their names and not much else, but she referred me to Grandpa Charles’ older brother, Uncle Hal. Now, Grandpa Charles passed away shortly after I was born and I had met his brothers only a few times in my life, so I was a little nervous, but I did call my 85 year-old great-uncle and left a message explaining who I was and what information I was hoping he might have. I thought that even if he never called me back, it was good to have asked.

A few days later I was at The Palacio with some friends and just about to leave for Chinatown when my cell phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered.

“Hi Tim? This is your Uncle – Great Uncle – whatever – Hal,” my Uncle Hal said, “I understand you’re looking for information on our Swedish roots?”

He went on to rattle off the names of several of our common ancestors and then he assured me that he would send all of the same information by mail that day. He also referred me to a second cousin who had done further research. He then asked me what I was doing now that Arthur Andersen collapsed, expressing his lament for the way Andersen imploded. Finally, we spoke of the details of my approaching Swedish journey.

Now, the conversation lasted about five or ten minutes, but I was impressed with how lucid and engaged my 85 year-old uncle was. He somehow knew something about my career though we were not that close or closely related. I began to realize that my short experience with his older brother was a taste of what it might have been like to know my own Grandpa Charles.

I enjoyed every moment that we spoke, and, more than anything, I cherished his closing remark. He closed our conversation by saying, “good luck kid!” It wasn’t so much that those words were new or profound, it was much more the gentle and sincere way that he said those words that sent my spirit soaring. I was just a ‘kid,’ but I was a kid who went with the blessing and support of this wise man, who undoubtedly saw a slice of his own brother in me. My journey to Sweden suddenly took on new meaning; I would gain greater understanding of those who came before me, while at the same time paying homage to those whose legacy I was continuing.

Two days after our conversation, and just as Uncle Hal promised, I received an envelope full of genealogical information. My second cousin also came through with information going back 3 generations from my emigrant Swedish ancestors. I went to Sweden and spent the better part of a rainy Saturday in the bucolic province of Östergötland, roaming the churches and graveyards in charming towns such as Tjarstad and Kisa, which were home to my ancestors more than 115 years before.

During that trip and for the rest of my life, I will remember those kind and simple words, “Good luck kid.” And I will always cherish my brief yet sincere encounter with Uncle Hal. He was one of those great men who rightfully earned his place as a member of the Greatest Generation. Unfortunately, I only have this brief memory of him, but that brief memory is something I will carry with me forever, as a glimpse of my own grandfather and the love that bonded him with his brother, and, surely, it was our common love of family that translated into such quick affinity between me and my Uncle Hal.

Thanks Uncle Hal, for taking the time and adding to my life. Here’s to a great man.