This is a piece I wrote on the anniversary of my uncle’s death.

The sun was bright and the temperature was already climbing on that Iowa summer morning in the early 1961. I was in Denison, Iowa visiting my grandma, Momo I called her, along with my aunts and uncles (my mom’s brothers and sisters). My cousins were older than me so I was pretty much invisible to them. The one person that stands out in my memories is my uncle Gene. He was always ready to spend time with his nephews and was fun to be with.

He had taken over my Granddad’s dry cleaning business after he died. It was one of those old school businesses that did pickup and delivery of items needing cleaning and having been cleaned for all their customers. He drove an old, green VW Bus for all of his deliveries. The console between the front seats held his pipes, an old bean bag ash tray and several pouches of Prince Albert and Carter Hall tobacco. His lighter and a box of matches also sat on it. What made this particular summer morning exciting was that I was going with Uncle Gene on his deliveries. We would spend the day together and share all the adventures that my 7 year old imagination could conjure.

Uncle Gene was my Mom’s oldest brother and my favourite uncle. He was a tall, lanky veteran of WW2 and a survivor of POW camps. He always had a pipe in his mouth, a habit he said he picked up in the camps. He loved his old pipes. I remember a pipe rack in the car filled with several old well smoked Grabows that he used throughout his day. He was a clencher and he always seemed to have a pipe in his mouth in my memories. I don’t remember ever seeing him without a pipe. As I recall, he even talked around the pipe as he told his jokes and stories. I can still smell the tobaccos and pipes when I close my eyes and let my memory wander.

Momo woke me early that morning and fed me her famous oatmeal and milk. I had eaten in a hurry. I still remember hustling to get dressed and find my baseball cap for the day. As I was brushing my teeth at Momo’s insistence (I mean, why did I need to do that! I was in a hurry to get to “work”) I heard a horn honk in the driveway. I left the tap running, threw my toothbrush in the cup on the shelf above the sink and ran out the door. The screen door slammed behind me on the back porch and I heard Momo holler, “You forgot to turn off the water…You behave now! Do what your uncle tells you and don’t make a fuss!” I ignored her and ran to the van.

My Uncle reached across the console and opened the door for me. As I climbed up into the van he said, “Whew, looks like escaped her clutches this time son. We better get out of here fast before she comes after you!” I looked over at him as he winked at me and the smile crinkles around his eyes and his mouth almost vibrated as he clenched his pipe and chuckled.

“Do you think she will come after me Uncle Gene?” I said.

“You never know with Momo… depends on what you did when you ran out that door. You didn’t go and get yourself in trouble now did you?” He laughed as he replied. “Reach down on the floor by your feet and pick up that bag will you.”

I did as he said and climbed back up on the seat.

“Go ahead and open it up. I picked something up for you for our day. I will smoke my pipe but you need something in your mouth as well.” As I opened the bag he used his old Zippo to relight his pipe. He was a master at doing it with one hand as he drove. So while a wreath of smoke filled the front of the VW I reached into the bag and lifted out a box of Tootsie Roll Pops. I don’t know if they were bigger then than now or if they tasted better but that day I began my love affair with Tootsie Pops. I remember that my eyes were as big as saucers as I lifted out a grape Tootsie Pop, unwrapped it and stuck it in my mouth. I held the stick in my hand just like Uncle Gene held his pipe! He looked over at me, winked and nodded and we were on the way.

I don’t recall what we talked about that day, but I do remember that Uncle Gene was great to hang out with. He always had a ready story and a joke going as we went from house to house and back and forth to the shop. I must have sucked on half a dozen Tootsie Pops between the morning and lunch and then between lunch and the time he took me back to Momo’s house. I have no idea how many times he refilled his pipe or if he changed pipes between smokes. I kind of don’t think he did but then memory is a funny thing. All I know is that to this day, whenever I get into a VW van I always smell my Uncle Gene’s pipe. I see his face and hear his chuckle every time I fire up a bowl of Prince Albert. When the pipe is lit and the smoke fills the room I am transported back to that day in 1961 and the VW, the pipe and the Tootsie Pops.

Uncle Gene died many years ago now but my memory of that day lingers with me like the taste of my last smoke on my moustache. I will never forget him and his kindness to me as a young boy. I raise my Tootsie Pop, er… my pipe in his memory.