Uncle Ted: My Personal Monster

patsyhatfieldlawson.com Uncle Ted: My Personal Monster

I hated Uncle Ted most of my childhood.  He was Aunt Emma’s husband.  They came to visit us at least one weekend every month or two. The visits were usually for Sunday dinner and I started dreading the experience as soon as Mama said, “I think Emma and Ted will be here this weekend for dinner.”

Uncle Ted was a large man, kinda like Bluto, Popeye’s brutish friend who competed for Olive Oyl’s affections. When Uncle Ted walked into a room it shrank in size and he appeared to fill the whole room. His voice was loud, rough, and commanding.  Even his ‘hello’ sounded like an order to me. He always greeted me first and as much as I craved attention, his comments were never welcomed because they were so loud, unpredictable, and rough. A common greeting from him consisted of rubbing my head with his knuckles, greeting me and leaving my short hair all tangled and messy. I could not hide my disdain for him. I spent most of my time taking paths around the spaces he occupied hoping to avoid contact with him. I didn’t have to read books about dragons that breathed fire and ate people because Uncle Ted was my fiery dragon.

I was a very finicky eater as a child.  Uncle Ted made me eat when he came. Since he owned a men’s clothing store he paid close attention to others’ clothing and offered generous comments about others’ clothing choices and how they looked on their body.  One Easter Sunday dinner Uncle Ted patted my stomach and told me that my new dress looked like a maternity dress.  I was 12 and so self-conscious about my body that I cried over this comment. I never wore the dress again. Mama and Aunt Emma knew my feelings about him and always said, “Honey, that’s just the way he is; get used to it.” While I accepted this advice on some level, my preferred way of coping was to stay out of his notice.

Aunt Emma was Mama’s youngest sister. She was petite like me, pretty with twinkling brown eyes, and always finely dressed. People in our community often accidentally called me by her name because I looked like her. She was kind most of the time and only rarely made critical comments.  I loved her very much and liked her visits. She often brought me new clothes, books, and encouraged me to do well in school. One persistent question that plagued me during adolescence, however, was did he treat Aunt Emma the same as he treated me and why did she tolerate it?  

Today Aunt Emma is nearing 82.  Uncle Ted died about ten years ago. She is still quite attractive, mostly healthy, generous, and a fine dresser. We speak and visit often. Our conversation eventually focused on my and Uncle Ted’s relationship, or lack thereof.  She still insists that I was a favorite niece of his and that he loved me very much. She told me that while he knew he scared me to death he always cared deeply about me and how my life turned out. We laugh about his Bluto approach and my reactions. While I now know that my reactions to him were somewhat based on the gentle nature of my parents, I still feel he had a strange way of showing his love. I also now accept that his style was a product of his family relationships.  His family were straight shooters who told you their thoughts and feelings honestly and without apology.  I still don’t get the connection between his business success and his communication style, but do have great respect for his contributions to his community and family.

Recently I encountered a difficult situation which called for straight honest reasoning and communication.  I was amazed to realize that the words coming out of my head and mouth were those of Uncle Ted’s, spoken exactly as he would have said them!  Inside my head I could hear him confronting the situation as it happened and the exact words he would have used. I was very surprised! My second surprise was the realization that I had been given a gift from Uncle Ted.  While we don’t get to pick our relatives or their personalities, or the discomfort they produce, we can learn valuable lessons from our interactions with them. My parents were great models for me, but Uncle Ted provided me with the problem solving skills I needed to handle really tough situations. These were some skills my parents did not teach me. Maybe the reason we are given so many relatives is to provide us with many different examples of problem solving.  Thank you, Uncle Ted, for being who you were.

Patsy Hatfield Lawson is a professional storyteller, speaker and entertainer who performs at business conferences, civic functions, assisted living facilities, and storytelling events.  www.patsyhatfieldlawson.com

patsyhlawson@gmail.com