uncle johnny.

My sweet Uncle Johnny passed away last night. He was 85. His wife, my Aunt Ruth, inspired in me a love of medicine...she was a nurse. I wanted to follow in her footsteps for most of my teen and early adult years.

My Uncle Johnny had a sweet disposition and jolly, rosy cheeks. His voice was raspy, the way you sometimes get after a bout of laryngitis, but his was that way all the time. I loved to hear Uncle Johnny talk.

When I was little, I used to go with my dad to work (my dad is a retired phone man) and I loved to go to Johnny's office. He had a big leather chair and a shiny, polished desk. But my favorite thing was his small-scale, leather-bound collection of Shakespeare.I loved the smell of the old leather covers, and the intricate gold tooling on the cover. And the crinkly sound the paper made when I turned one of the delicate pages. I was careful, because I knew these books were something special.

I read Romeo and Juliet curled up in that big leather chair in his office, and A Midsummer Nights Dream (my two favorites of the Bard's.) And others... I stumbled through the unfamiliar cadence and language at first, but eventually I found my rhythm. And fell in love.

Thank you Uncle Johnny, for the memories that will stay with me always, and for inadvertently introducing me to a great passion. Writing.

He who has gone,
so we but cherish his memory,
abides with us, more potent,
nay, more present
than the living man.
~Antoine de Saint-Exupery