|Uncle Buck (standard:fantasy, 2565 words)|
|Author: Alpha43||Added: Apr 17 2005||Views/Reads: 1707/1190||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|a country girl is excited to travel to a large city, even though it is to attend a funeral. She had never met the deceased, but leaves the wake with a fairly thorough knowledge of “Uncle Buck.”|
Uncle Buck I have never been to a big city before. This is great fun and a little scary at the same time. I have seen the TV shows, NYPD, L.A. Law, and even Miami Vice, and I have thought how great it would be to go to these places, never expecting I would get a chance until I was grown up. I am getting a week off from Mrs. Elston’s fifth grade classes and I am going to a big city. Some of the larger High Schools take Senior trips to big cities. Last year the senior class went to the Vlasic pickle plant and the Pioneer Sugar Company in Bad Axe, and then went to a concert in Midland, Michigan. I hope when I get to be a senior, we can do better than that. But even if we don’t, I can always say that I have been to Chicago! This is supposed to be a sad visit, a funeral. Uncle Boyd “Buck” Graham has passed to ‘The great Con Game in the Sky,’ as Grandma puts it. It seems that after all the years of fearing a violent death from playing ‘bait and switch’, ‘3 card Monty’, and the ‘Pigeon Drop’ on the general public, Uncle Buck got run over by a bus. My father got the call on Monday, telling him that his oldest brother had challenged the ‘B Line Special’ and lost. By Tuesday morning we had left Willow Run on, of all things, a Greyhound, and by 6 PM, we were amongst the mourners at the Callahan Funeral Home in suburban Chicago. Dad was pretty quiet during the trip and his eyes looked like he might be getting the flu. We are not in downtown Chicago, but in an Irish suburb called O’Shea. There are lot of churches, bars, restaurants that specialize in corned beef and cabbage, small manufacturing plants, but mostly houses make up O’Shea. People everywhere, I never saw so many people in my life. Traffic lights, sirens, horns honking, crowded sidewalks, street vendors; it was fabulous and exciting, except dad kept reminding me that we are here for a funeral, not attending the circus. We got off the bus at the O’Shea/Old Town terminal and my father walked across the street to Mike’s Tavern and found our welcoming committee; Uncle Connor, Aunt Kathleen, and Uncle Pat having a brew and playing cards. We had to sit down and “take a load off” and “have something to clear away the road dust”, as Uncle Pat likes to say. We were told the services were on Friday, the wake is Thursday night, and visitation is any time after 6 PM today. Dad wanted to get unpacked and settled in to Grandmas house, but we stayed at Mike’s for nearly two hours, I played darts with Uncle Connor. A lot of people came up to us and expressed their sympathy, but mostly they wanted to know how Grandma was doing, and they didn’t say a lot about Uncle Buck. Several times I heard things like, “I’ll speak no evil of the dead” and “we’re all lambs in God’s eyes”. Grandma Graham’s house was full of people. Some coming, some going, but at all times it was full of family and friends. I was introduced to everyone, “this is Gloria from Michigan,” and after a while, I did not remember anybody’s name. Cousins, nephews, nieces, neighbors, old neighbors, people from the Lodge, the Knights, the Elks, the Moose; all concerned about Grandma, nothing much mentioned about Uncle Buck. I was excused and allowed to go outside and play with some of my Graham cousins, with a warning about ruining my good dress. They were all friendly and told me about the O’Shea neighborhoods; the schools, churches, and the cool places to hang out. “Uncle Pat this” and “Uncle Connor that”, but again, nothing about Uncle Buck. I tried to get Buck’s name brought up, but everybody seemed to wander off when I mentioned him. I knew he had a bad reputation; kind of a swindler, a con man, he had done his share of jail time, and “honest and hard work” was not in his vocabulary. Phrases like “never earned a honest dollar,” “keep your hand on your billfold,” and “Mr. Silver tongue” were heard when Uncle Buck’s name was finally mentioned. I had my choice of things to eat, as the house was full of neighborhood Click here to read the rest of this story (183 more lines)
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