PeaceBang In Mourning
My beloved Uncle Marvin died in his sleep last night.
If I could only express what a titan this man was. He was a sexy, vibrant, wine-quaffing, world-traveling babe at 82 and he would have so hated to have become old and infirm. I have no complaints there. Neither would he have. The night before he died he was at a fabulous party in Utah, and was reportedly the belle of the ball. When I say he was a babe, I mean he was a babe. See what I mean? Paul Newman-level babe, with a great golf handicap. Here he is a few weeks ago, wearing the family uniform of navy blue blazer and khaki pants (that's vacation. In winter you get a tie and some other kind of trousers, and Bali loafers).
He also, ironically enough, had just had a full check-up and had received an A+ stellar clean bill of health. Cholesterol low. Arteries terrific. Etc. His doctor will plotz.
Domineering Jewish papa, patriarch of us all (his younger brother, my dear Uncle Dick, joked with him days before he died that he was tired of being the "Patriarch-In-Waiting") the whole clan of us twelve cousins, and our seventeen children. Husband of Mae for sixty years, Army colonel (he will be buried at West Point) and absolutely no nonsense.
He thought this war with Iraq was a despicable, cowardly mess and no excuse for it.
The world felt safer with Uncle Marvin in it.
Uncle Marv and I exchanged e-mails on September 8th on msn.com. If anyone knows how I might retrieve a deleted e-mail, I sure would like to know. I have found my letter to him, but I don't have his to me and it would be lovely to have it.
Hold to your loved ones real tight tonight. As the poet Mary Oliver would say (or I may be paraphrasing), "Let the small, soft animal of your body love what it loves."