Uncle Frank

A Poor Man's James Cagney

Have I ever told you about my Uncle Frank?  I didn’t think so.  He was a colorful character, and Mama’s younger brother.  She used to tell us stories about him and have all of us in stitches. 

These days, he would be considered ADHD.  Back in those days, he was simply hyperactive.  Mama told us he was one of two boys on the high school cheering squad.  (He’s the guy on the top right).

Memories of my Uncle Frank are dear to me. He had an unusual childlike energy that followed him everywhere he went.

When I was a child, I watched an old movie with a young James Cagney dancing and singing, “I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy”. In his own way, Uncle Frank looked just like him, handsome, small, and so full of life.  His friends called him a “poor man’s James Cagney”.

Uncle Frank came to live with us for a while, after his first heart attack at age 30. We only lived a block from the hospital, so his doctor felt if we had to get him back over to the E.R., it would be fast enough.

I’ll give you a few insights as to his infectious personality.  I remember one time, all of us were sitting at the dinner table eating dinner when my younger brother shouted, “Oh nooo!  There’s a fly on my potatoes!”

Without missing a beat, Uncle Frank loudly whispered, “Shhhhh, quiet! Everyone’s gonna  want one …” He diffused the situation in seconds amid giggles and all out laughter from all of us, especially my brother, the ‘owner’ of the fly.

Another time, I had the hiccups and they wouldn’t stop. Uncle Frank calmly said, “Cathy Jo, I’ll give you a dollar if you can do that again.” For the life of me, I couldn’t hiccup again.  I still don’t know why, only that it worked.

He often took all of us fishing, or hiking, but our favorite time was when he took us ‘shrooming (hunting for mushrooms) in his secret lucky spot –-and he swore all of us to secrecy.

Once we filled the brown paper grocery bag with morels, we all morphed into Indians. We waded in the streams and caught crawdads, or a snapping turtle and searched for wild onions for Mama and sarsaparilla root for us to chew on.

We came home giddy, exhausted and filthy dirty, but Uncle Frank hosed us down before we went in the house. Then we shared our adventures from the day with Mom and Dad around the dinner table.

My one-of-a-kind Uncle Frank.  He gave us such wonderful memories and a real zest for life. He was so much fun and we loved him.