Uncle Fred Flies Home

I bid farewell to my uncle yesterday.  He flew back to England, tired and looking after a few weeks to be happy to be going home again to his familiar routine.

Somehow in the inevitable fate of the universe, the relatives I like the least live the closest to me and the relatives I love the most live overseas.  My uncle Fred is hands down best uncle I’ve ever had.  I first met him when I was 12 and wished like hell he could be the uncle I could see every week.  He took me out to soccer games, walks, to the seaside.  We did more stuff in those 3 weeks I was there than my dad and I did in our whole childhood.  And no, I’m not exaggerating.  I hate to say this, but I wished Uncle Fred was my father growing up.  He’s a naturally charismatic man, charming and impish.  He’s kind of like Benny Hill without the creepy, pervy sense of humour.

We spent a week travelling around the province, soaking up some of the local flavour, but as nice a face as he tried to put on it, I could tell by the end of it he was bored to tears.  Manitoba doesn’t have a lot to offer between winter and fishing season, summer festivals and beaches.  Most small towns are farming communities full of extremely nice folks, but not really a lot to do and see.  We hiked in Riding Mountain National Park, but his back prevented anything too strenuous.

We had pints in many small towns and posed for pics in front of local large-sized attractions – ‘the world’s largest (blank)’.  And that was fun in and of itself.  I taught him the finer points of hockey as it played on the barroom television and he thought I was soft in the head for playing goal for so many years with hard rubber being shot at you at breakneck speed.  He taught me the finer points of soccer as well, especially playing the back.  We cheered our beloved Newcastle United to two straight losses and them missing the Champions League.  Out of all the soccer we've watched together over the last 25 years, when we're together our teams never win.  Not once.  Not even a draw.

And he was gracious enough to kick around the soccer ball with Nick and Gerry, albeit for a short time as his back was acting up.  But I could tell he was wanting to do more.  He indulged their roughhousing until I had to gently step in and tell them enough was enough, and their great uncle can't do too much more.

While he was here, he didn’t ask about my divorce, and I didn’t ask about Grandma and Aunt Tara’s deaths.  In the space of three months he lost his mother and his wife and it hit him HARD.  It’s not that I don’t care.  I do, and immensely.  Aunt Tara was my favourite aunt and I loved her very much, even though I’ve only met her a handful of times in my life.  But I think he needed family who wasn’t constantly tiptoeing around how he was feeling all the time and just cut loose and have some fun.  Which we did in spades.

But he’s not as young as he used to be, and at 3 weeks he was ready to go home to his son, daughter-in-law and his grandchildren and the pace and life of Northern England.  He could not get over how isolated he felt in Winnipeg, how cut-off and far away it was from other major cities, where the closest major city is 7 hours away in another country.  Driving around southern Manitoba and it becomes apparent that 90% of it is farmland.  Important, obviously… but not necessarily aesthetically pleasing, at least not for the long haul.  That’s not a cut on rural living or anything, it’s just the way it is.

We spent a last night at the pub, having a few more cups than we planned on having, shooting pool (he is REALLY good, while I am not really good), watching hockey, and not wanting the moment to arrive where I won’t see him again for a good long while.  But that moment came and went, we shook hands and promised I’ll be over the pond again soon.  He was a little teary and so was I, but we held it together okay.

I’m planning a trip over in a few years with Nick, all things willing and then later on with Gerry when he’s a little older.  It’s funny, because I’ve only been twice in my life, but I feel its incredible draw.  I’ve always felt I’ve belonged there and not here in Canada.  I feel like I’m home when I’m in England.