Monday, April 6, 2009
My Uncle Sonny was One Cool Dude.
As a kid I can remember how excited we would be when he would come home for a visit.
In my young eyes, everything about him was Cool. His clothes, his cars, even the way he walked. Cool.
His stoic delivery of one-liners was legendary. DonâÂ(TM)t waste your time trying to deliver the last line. You didnâÂ(TM)t stand a chance. And boy could he stare you down.
My Mother tells me when I was a fussy newborn, he would walk me around the house, bouncing me and talking to me until I quieted down.
I couldnâÂ(TM)t picture it. Not that Cool Dude I knew.
He had a presence about him that I found both intimidating and calming. I thought the intimidating part would go away as I became an adult. It did not.
One night a couple of years ago my Uncle Sonny and I were sitting on my motherâÂ(TM)s front porch talking.
It was a conversation where I got to know the private man behind the Cool. He told me stories about his life, his travels and how he loved his family.
For the first time, in his presence, I wasnâÂ(TM)t intimidated, just calm.
As my family grieves our loss of a Father, Brother, Uncle, Grandfather, I know in my heart that Heaven just got One Cool Dude.
