The Waiting Walk

Everyone needs a crazy uncle.  I mean, it’s not absolutely necessary for survival, and if your family lacks one I would not advise you step up to fill the role.  But I do truly believe that my life was and is better because my crazy Uncle Kevin was in it.

Now let me be clear. I use this word crazy in the most endearing way possible. You will know where I’m coming from if you have people in your family that you are proud to call Rednecks. If that term would embarrass you, you may not understand this part of me and my dad’s side of the family. Even before we moved to the Ozarks, that Redneck streak seemed to run in our blood. And we like it that way. Building houses and sheds out of found items, always working on at least two vehicle projects at a time, hanging out at the river, and ever growing that pile of “spare parts” out back because you just never know when you’ll need something… this was the way life was lived!

My Uncle Kevin is definitely part of my earliest memories. As my dad’s older brother, the oldest of four, his kids were the cousins my age, and the only cousin I have that is older than me. Christmases were fun, and I remember seeing him working in Grandpa’s spa and waterbed store while my cousins and I splashed away in the showroom hot tub – we considered it advertising! Of course there was always a car or two being worked on and fixed up, even before we officially moved to Redneck country. And then there were the stories of the three boys growing up, and their poor baby sister. Oh my. How my grandmother survived it all I’ll never know. I will always and forever think of my Uncle Kevin when I eat a Stripple sandwich, or Munster cheese. Funny the things we remember about people sometimes.

The reason my Uncle Kevin gets the title of crazy more so than anyone else in my family is because he was a risk taker like no one else I’ve ever met. He liked to live life on the edge. The very edge. So much so that whenever Uncle Kevin had a project, or was even on the scene of someone else’s project, everyone knew that they needed to do their own safety checks because there was a high possibility something dangerous was going to go down. He literally lived on the edge as well, putting his home on the side of a cliff hanging over the river below. One of my absolute favorite crazy memories is the time he decided to trim the trees. He managed to get out on the limb that needed to be cut, probably 30 feet up. But he couldn’t quite get the angle right with the chainsaw. So he scooted out on the limb even further and then started cutting behind him. I just remember everyone on the ground yelling and shouting and telling him that this was not going to end well if he kept cutting while sitting on the side of the branch that was about to fall! Thankfully he listened. It ended well.

I’ll never forget the day as a teen that our elderly neighbors drove up to our house and asked if we could come help them. As they had driven into the pasture to feed their cows that day, there was a wild boar running around with the cows and they were afraid to get out of the vehicle! Let me tell you, this was the kind of adventure my family lived for! My brother and I with my dad and my Uncle Kevin jumped in the truck and drove straight over. Sure enough, there was a pig, tusks and everything, running around with the cows like he owned the place. Our best guess is that since this was the early 90’s and pot-bellied pigs were all the rage, that someone’s cute little pet had grown up too big, and they had dumped him beside a road somewhere. He had figured out that where cows were, grain soon followed, and here he was.

We said it was to help out our neighbors, but really, I think we just liked the idea of a wild boar pot-bellied pig as a pet. And in true Uncle Kevin style, he grabbed his lariat (because every crazy uncle carries a lariat around) and after a few tries, Porker (his instant name) had a rope around his neck. Now let me tell you that if you have never heard the shrieking screams of a pig in distress, you do not know what you are missing. It will truly make your blood curdle. At this point my uncle weighed around 300 pounds, and we somehow managed to get Porker heading in the correct direction towards home. My brother and I laughed uncontrollably as Porker dragged my uncle over a quarter mile before we were able to hog tie the runaway and throw him in the back of the truck. It also happened to be my mom’s birthday, so in typical Uncle Kevin style, he presented this screaming trophy to my mom and wished her a happy birthday.

She was not amused.

Porker lived out his days on our farm, and every few years when Uncle Kevin was in, he and my dad would wrestle the poor pig down to trim his ever-growing tusks (using the very sophisticated redneck tusk-trimming tool that the rest of the world knows as bolt-cutters). The shrieking screams could always be heard for miles…

Speaking of the lariat, my brother tells of the time they were in the barnyard and needed to grab a young steer. Uncle Kevin roped it, but failed to notice he was standing in the coils. Next thing you knew, Crazy Uncle Kevin was being pulled by the leg through the barnyard, including through a half-dozen cow pies, by a very worked-up young steer. I think he finally let his boot slip off to escape his predicament. Of course, my brother could barely even retell the story due to laughing so hard, but this was simply another normal day in the life of our risk-taking, adventure-loving crazy uncle.

My Uncle Kevin had stopped going to church for much of his life, but always recognized that God was real. Over these past few years he had been going more often to the church my dad and grandparents attend. He even took his pet raccoon with him a few times, to entertain the children. (I told you he was crazy!) Kevin was on his own journey with God, and I love that God was OK with that. He always meets us right where we are, no matter where that is.

The honest reality is that there were a lot of close calls for my Uncle Kevin. Sometimes (often?) we would just shake our heads and wonder how long he could escape serious harm. As an over-the-road trucker for many years, he already held a dangerous occupation. One night he dozed off while at the wheel and woke up facing oncoming headlights. He swerved back into the median right before an overpass, and the truck went straight between the two concrete pillars, not even scraping the mirrors. It was a very rough ride, though, and items in the cab (and trailer) were thrown wildly around, including his little Maltese pup. For months after that event, the poor pup suffered PTSD and would start shaking and take cover if they hit a bumpy spot in the road. We later discovered that it was the only overpass along that entire stretch of interstate that had two pillars. All the rest had one solid pillar right in the middle. That night could have ended so differently for a lot of people if so many little factors had been just a bit different. We all thanked God for another day of life. We all knew that it wasn’t by chance that he had been spared.

And then last Saturday, it was over. Perhaps we could say it happened in true Uncle Kevin style. The fact that it was an accident, but also the fact that it happened as he was helping a neighbor with a vehicle project. He was like that, always liked to lend a helping hand, always willing to let people borrow whatever he had. I’m writing this before learning the details, which I am sure will come later, but the details don’t even matter. He is gone. And while it had been years since I saw him, and even more years since we hung out, there is definitely now a hole in my life. A much bigger hole now exists for his kids, for my dad and other uncle, for his girlfriend Missy, for my grandparents. But here’s what I choose to focus on. He could have, indeed should have, lost his life a dozen times before. But didn’t. And I choose to believe that God preserved his life until Kevin and God had come to a place of understanding that they were both satisfied with. I’m quite hopeful that means I will see him again on that great resurrection morning. And to those of you who imagine heaven as a calm, peaceful, quiet place, let me just tell you – with my crazy Uncle Kevin there, there will be a wild side! There will be crazy tree-houses and houseboats to build, animals to ride, swings and zip lines to put up… there won’t be a dull moment. And I can’t wait to be right there in the middle of it.

Love you, Uncle Kevin.  You were the best crazy uncle a kid could ever ask for. May our family be filled with peace through this time.  And may the lessons you taught us stick – even if many of those lessons were on what NOT to do.  See you on the other side!