My Uncle Lou – Patience Personified

My Uncle Lou has passed away. He was the oldest brother and my eldest Uncle. I’m very lucky to have had an Uncle Lou, and not just because having an Uncle “Lou” is kinda old-timey like having an Uncle Frank or Uncle Moe … names you don’t hear anymore.  No, having an Uncle Lou like my Uncle Lou made my life better.

Sticking with the name … “Lou” is a great name. It’s a family name. Uncle Lou’s father (my grandfather) was also Lou. My Mom, his sister, was Mary Lou. And their grandmother was Ada Louisa … and because we loved the name, we named my daughter Ada Louisa and, like the older Ada Louisa (who we never met), we call my daughter “Louie” like everyone called her great great Grandmother. My niece is Lauren Louise. And if my “Ada” had been born a boy, her/his name would be Louis (or at least on weekends when I had custody because at the time of Ada’s birth my wife and I were at odds about what we would name a boy and it might have led to divorce).

Anyway. “Lou” and “Louie” and “Louis” are family names.

My Uncle Lou was a great “oldest brother”. At least I think he was from what I could tell growing up and seeing the family dynamics between him and his younger siblings –  Walt, Mary Lou, Jerry, and Roger.

Lou was a character. To me, as a kid, he was like Jackie Gleason. A little bit Ralph Kramden from The Honeymooners and a little bit Buford T. Justice from Smokey and the Bandit. But alot less swearing. In fact, almost no swearing – I never heard my Uncles swear.  The Brooks boys DO NOT curse.

There are three stories that always come to mind when I think of my Uncle Lou, but those are only funny stories, and what I noticed when I was younger and appreciated even more when I got older was his generosity, patience and that he was a “glue guy” …just seemed to always bring people together.

First, the funny stories. “I Smell a Golf Shoe”, “Don’t Let the Door Hit you in the Ass on the Way Out”, and “All people are kind and polite and sometimes just need the opportunity to show it.”

I’m lucky that my Uncles married well and all the Aunts got along like best friends, and so for my entire childhood, every summer, all our families vacationed together at Torch Lake. They found a resort with 10 cabins and each family had a cabin and, in the early years, we all spent two weeks boating, swimming, waterskiing, and having adventures. Nobody takes 2-week vacations anymore, but we did and spending all that time together gave us some great memories and stories that will last forever.

First the stories (which you can skip if you want to get to the real point of this) and then the lifelong lesson Uncle Lou taught me.

Story #1:  “All people are kind and polite and sometimes just need the opportunity to show it”

I won’t say my Uncle Lou had road rage, but he expected a certain etiquette from other drivers. I don’t remember how old I was, but Uncle Lou was driving us somewhere and was trying to merge into traffic and nobody was giving him “the wave” and letting him in. So he inched out as if to say, “you have two choices … let me in or run into me.”  But what he said out loud, and something my Dad, Mom, and I’ve repeated many times over the years was, “all drivers are kind and polite and sometimes just need the opportunity to show it.”  I loved that then and have ever since. It means exactly that … I know you’re not letting me in, you’re pretending not to see me, and you’re a jerk … but I’m going to merge and we’re going to crash into each other OR you, Mr. Other Driver, are going to show how polite you are.

Story #2:  “”Don’t Let the Door Hit you in the Ass on the Way Out”

My family played games. We played Trivial Pursuit at holidays and birthdays. Or Boggle. Or cards. Countless other games but every family gathering eventually led to an evening of board games. My cousin Scott and I liked sitting ringside, not playing, but just taking in the gameplay and fun …and the “friendly” competition. Among the Brooks boys (my Uncles), my Mom (the Brooks girl), and the spouses, each person had his or her own skills and his or her own level or seriousness and competition. Nobody was a “sore loser”, but nobody liked to lose. I might be wrong, but I think my Mom and Dad were REALLY GOOD at cards – specifically Pinochle. And one time, up at Torch Lake, the story I remember is a long night of Pinochle and no matter how good his cards, Uncle Lou just wasn’t winning and was getting frustrated. When the cards ended and as everyone was saying good night, rather than saying “good night, that was fun” … what my Uncle Lou said was, “oh that was a lotta fun (sarcasm), thanks for coming over …and don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out (more sarcasm).”

Again, I was a kid and don’t remember it perfectly, but that back-handed well-wishing was perfectly Uncle Lou.

Story #3:  “I Smell a Golf Shoe”

Another “Torch Lake” story and, again, why I’m grateful for all those years and weeks together, because it made my family as close as any family you’ll ever meet. Uncles, Aunts, cousins … all of us for years and years. We rented these little, tiny cabins with porches and one night Uncle Lou came out and saw a skunk rummaging around on his porch and what would you do if you saw a skunk on your porch? Would you lock the door, turn off the light, and be very quiet so not to spook it and make it spray everywhere?  Or would you scream and throw a golf shoe, thereby guaranteeing the skunk raises it’s tail and sprays skunk smell? Uncle Lou … he threw his golf shoe and the skunk sprayed everything on the porch, as a skunk is wont to do and EVERYTHING … golf bag, a car top carrier, ski vests, and Uncle Lou’s golf show wreaked of skunk. A day or two later, I think, cousin Mike smelled a skunk in the distance some other night and said, “hey, I smell a golf shoe” and it stuck. That happened somewhere in the mid-80s and for at least 30 years, our family didn’t smell skunks … we smelled golf shoes.

But actually … patience and generosity

What I wish I would’ve told my Uncle Lou was what he taught me about generosity of spirit and patience. Because I’ve thought about him countless times over all the years raising my kids. Why? Because whenever I’m pulling my kids on a tube behind a boat, I think of Uncle Lou and the, literally, countless hours he spent driving his boat at Torch Lake, pulling kids on skis, pulling adults on skis, and patiently trying again, again, again … and again .. and again … to get anyone up on skis that wanted to try.

See … Geoff and Alan, the oldest cousins, could already water ski. I think they were born with the innate ability to do it. I have no memory of either of them not knowing how to water ski. They evolved into slalom skiiers during those Torch Lake years. Cousin Mike was younger but refused to admit it, so he worked his butt off to ski at least as well as older brother Geoff and cousin Alan. He was good, too. But it took a couple dozen stops and starts to get as good.

Side story – cousin Mike did the most amazing thing I’d ever seen on water skis at the time … challenged by Geoff to take a ski off and pick it up and stay upright then on one ski, Mike accepted that challange and I’ll be damned if he did it. He actually did it.

I think cousins Jennifer and Cheryl could water ski, but didn’t need to be doing it from sun up to sun down.

Anyway, outside of Geoff, Alan, and Mike … the rest of us … cousin Scott, me, my brother Dave, and my sister Dana …we all wanted to learn to ski.  It wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized teaching a kid to water ski takes a looooooooong time.

Uuuuuup and “he’s down.”  Uuuuuup … uuuuuup, and “he’s down.”

“Drag me a little … drag me … ok GO!”

Uuuuuuuup …and he’s up.   He’s up.  He’s wobbling.  He’s down.

We all learned to water ski behing my Uncle Lou’s mid ’80s yellow Sea Ray. It was his vacation. He didn’t need to do it. But he did. He patiently spent hours and hours driving a boat while I figured out water skiing. Then figuring out how to drop a ski to slalom. Then to get up on a slalom ski.

Plus, when the kids weren’t water skiing, my Dad would take a turn. My Mom could water ski. Uncle Lou liked to water ski.

By my count, there were at least 6 or 7 serious water skiing kids and we’d ski, or try to ski, all day for hours and hours. 2 or 3 loops. The. The next kid. Then the next.

If this bothered Uncle Lou at all, I didn’t sense it.

As a grown up with kids and niece and nephews of my own, when it comes to tubing …or fishing …or biking …or anything …sometimes it’s alot and if you’re like me, you want to say, “hey, let’s take a break,” and you want to do your own thing and enjoy your “me time” and patience sometimes runs thin. In those moments, I think of my Uncle Lou and his endless and limitless patience and I get embarassed for my selfsish thoughts and think, if Uncle Lou had been selfish, I wouldn’t have learned to water ski.

Plus, here’s a little fun fact. Uncle Lou and aunt Janet are the ones that originally discovered this torch lake resort called Tivoli. And what he must’ve said to himself was, “this place is great and would be better if my brothers and sister and all their wives and husband and kids were here too for two weeks with me.”

Not everyone has a family that they love so much they would want to spend all that time with them.

It would’ve been easy for Uncle Lou to spend a couple hours pulling skiers. Instead … he spent a couple weeks and countless hours giving us amazing memories.

And what I always remember is … how much time is too much to spend doing something? Well …if it’s family, there’s no limit and the memories will be timeless.

I will miss you, Uncle Lou.