Uncle George ((A Short Sketch For Old Folks, 1987)(A Minnesota Story))

(Winter of 1987) I thought we were headed toward the River Road, along the Mississippi, in St. Paul, Minnesota, I, my mother, Aunt Anne, Uncle George was heading to the airport (a tired old man now, about five foot eight inches tall, one hundred and fifty pounds, at one time a lively sort of person, a talkative kind of fellow (a little quiet now), a sporty man and hard working, kind of played the big shot, but it was an act more than reality), and it was winter of 1987. They picked us up at my mother's apartment, on Woodbridge Street, George smoking a thin cigar as usual, waiting in his car for Anne and us to come down the two flights of stairs, and get into his 1987 Mercury, he liked Mercury's, made by Ford, bought one every three years, so he boasted and so he did, matter of fact, it was a highlight in his life to do so, and let us all in the family know.