Uncle John's House

Meeting family members you never knew can be a little intimidating. You hear all the stories, you may even see a few photos, but you know deep down that everyon's experience is different. The person who may appear an ogre to some family members is a tender, loving, nurturing soul to another.

Uncle John lives in Ramseur, North Carolina; a community of around 1,500 people. His home is not far off the main road, just a few hundred yards. He lives in an old, single-story home that appears to have had many exciting stories of its own. Every home needs a front porch, no matter the size. Uncle John's front porch wasn't large, but large enough. A handful of cats scurried about as we walked toward the house. This is a working-class family home.

In the house, the ceilings are high, the windows are large. The interior paint is a give-a-way to years of life lived in it, once white and heavily applied. "My home is my workshop," Uncle John boasts. From floor to ceiling, the front two rooms are over run with every manner of wood, tools, saws, rulers patterns and parts.

Uncle John is a pretty neat ole fella. He's not a very tall man, perhapts 5'7" or so. His face is wrinkled from years of adventures and responsibilities. His steel gray eyes sparkle as he tells the story behind his latest project. It's a large birdhouse with a story-book style. He made one just to see if he could. Before long, he was asked to make a few more.

Uncle John has a way or rolling every part of everything he does into a story. He tells of lady friends who marvel at this craftmaship and are eager to purchase things he makes. He tells of the man at the fleamarket who sells his small birdhouses for $1.00 each. Uncle John buys them and sells them for $2.00.

He crafts small jewlery chests routinely and pulls out a couple new styles to show. Inside are a handful of photographs. Rememberances of family that live far away. Next he dusts off an end table he has converted to a portable photo stand. Miniature portraits of those he cherishes are so tightly arranged barely any wood shows. Inside you find a large stack of photos, saved over the years. Uncle John excitedly tells a story of helping a neighbor clean out a self-storage unit, in trade for tools left behind. He is a trader. He knows the value of things and how to barter. Soon, he's telling us about is ball of yarn.

"This ball of yarn is the world's largest," he proudly states. Whether that is true or not, it is still impressive. In the back of his van rests a ball of prison gray, wool yarn rolled into what must be a 44 inch circumfrenece ball. Obviously, not a toy for an ordinary house cat!

It's nearing time to leave and the visit begins to draw to a close. The conversation continues outside for a few minutes. The Austrailian Sheep Dog, Peaches, is eager for attention, jumping and wiggling. She tries to play with a basketball, but it gets caught under the van. Uncle John pulls out a stuffed toy, tossing it in the air. Peaches is thrilled to have some play time.

Skeins of prison gray yarn are loaded into the truck for delivery to family. Final goodbyes are said. It was a brief visit, but memorable. The first impression of Uncle John has been a good one. He is talkative, open, friendly and genuine. Anything but an ogre to me.