Dictionary.com has a definition of rich: “Having wealth or great possessions; abundantly supplied with resources, means, or funds; wealthy.”
My great-uncle, Ford Garrison, did not meet this definition. He was, in fact, the very antithesis. He was also the family “black sheep”. Never fully employed, he subsisted piecemeal on a small government pension he earned by having been slightly wounded in the arm in World War One. He always needed a shave, which was not as fashionable in those days, and I can only remember him wearing one set of clothes; an old suit with a vest. But he always wore a rumpled tie with it as well. He still had his dignity and wanted that to be on display.
He lived in my hometown of Elmira, New York, shuttling between one-room furnished apartments. When he eventually failed to pay rent, he would move on to another. With very few worldly possessions, this was not particularly a problem for him. Occasionally he would “work” by selling trinkets on street corners. Little puzzles and gadgets that parents would buy to amuse their children. However, this was pretty much the extent of his work life from the time he got out of the army.
The gadget I recollect most was the old-fashioned gyroscope top. If you’re near my age group, you may remember these fascinating devices. You’d wind a string around the top shaft then pull it hard to set the gyroscope going. It would spin for what seemed like forever. You could balance it on your finger or a knife edge or place it at a 45 degree angle on the edge of a table and it would still hold its position.
As you might expect, my grandmother (his sister) and my mother were not enamored when he came around to see his little nephew “Alfie”. Like most parents, they feared his less than stellar lifestyle would influence my own aspirations in life. Their concern was not entirely without merit since I thought Ford, as I called him, was one cool dude. You see, when Ford was a very young man, he was quite a baseball player. Folks would tell him he had big-league potential. That ended with his stint in the army and the injury. But as far as I was concerned, he was every bit that professional baseball player. He spent precious hours playing catch and hitting balls with me. He’d give me hints about batting and pitching. He was always encouraging, never disparaging about my progress. He never missed one of my little league games, even though he’d have to walk a couple of miles to get to them. No one ever offered to bring him.
When we weren’t playing ball in the backyard, he loved to walk me down to the lunch counter at Woolworth’s and buy me a “sodie”, his name for an ice cream soda. You can imagine how excited I was when he would say “let’s go get us a sodie.” I can still see him happily plunking down the quarters for our sodies, which I knew was a fortune for him to be spending, just to see his little Alfie smile. He often had one of those aforementioned trinkets in his pocket. He would hold one out, rather than get paid the money he so desperately needed, just to have one to give his special nephew.
He told me many tales, many of which were greatly embellished I’m sure. But his delivery was so believable that I didn’t have the slightest notion of questioning their veracity. These were the only things that Ford had to offer me, but he acted like he was taking me on a trip around the world. And to me, he was. He was just one of those men with a heart of gold, just not the material means to match it.
I loved Ford. Every time I think back about those years, I smile. And while my family was relieved I didn’t follow his lifestyle, I took with me the best he had to offer, himself.
The Cvillean 
Men like him are true “Gold-dust” and if they sprinkle their magic on you, you are truly blessed. What a lovely portrait of a lovely man. It’s sad to think he wasn’t s admired by his immediate family, apart from you, but you certainly gained from his company 🙂
Very nicely put, Peter. He did sprinkle magic all over me. And I think he found a niche where he could feel love also. It reminds me of one of my favorite quotes “You can’t sprinkle happiness on someone else without spilling a few drops on yourself.”
I really enjoyed reading about your uncle. I think he brought great value to your life. And it’s clear you gave great value to his.
You are very kind. The memory is so vivid that when writing this I felt that he was standing next to me. Thanks for the visit. On my way to your blog…..
I love this story. You gifted each other with presence. You are honoring him by telling his story and keeping his memory alive.
I will be back to this blog.
Thank you so much for your comment and visiting my blog. He was (and is) a special memory for me.
I think you were lucky to know him. I think that generation and my parents were very protective. What an amazing man to make the time for you. Time is the most precious gift of all.
This would make a great book. You could loosely base it on your relationship! It has all the tension of a great movie too.
You flatter me, Susie. If I could write like you….maybe. It remains a warm fuzzy from my childhood and helped shape the person I am.
Ha! Thanks, Al. You could do it…
Oh Al, I love this post. Your great uncle was truly a rich man. Not monetarily it sounds like, but in more important areas like the heart and his love for you and the simpler things in life. So glad you got to be influenced by hm in those good ways.
And yes, I do gyroscopes and Woolworth’s! Funny I was just have a discussion about that store with a friend. We were reminiscing about the green eye shadow all the lady clerks seemed to wear that my 6 year old self thought was the most exotic thing in the world.
Funny. Yes, that Woolworth’s was an experience. I don’t remember this myself, but my mother used to relate to me that one day, when I was around 3 or 4, a little girl we didn’t know just walked right up and kissed me for no reason. But that was the last time that ever happened. The rest of the time I had to beg to get a girl to kiss me!
Lol, cute!
Darn it Al. You made me cry. Great post. Maybe your best. I can see your fine character owes much to your rich uncle.
You are in good company, I’ve made Patty cry many times, but not because of my blog. Thank you anyway.
I would say you are very rich for having had him in your life.
The memories are rich, that’s for sure!
My answer is YES! Ford was your very rich uncle, he gave you the most precious gift of all: Time, time is better than all the money in the world. Thank you Al, for sharing your special memories.
Couldn’t agree more, Marie. And thanks for commenting.
Very nice. We had a Woolworth’s in Fulton also, with a soda fountain. I imagine our downtowns were similar back then. Your uncle was definately a cool dude! Thanks for the memories.
I’ll bet you’re right Cindy. I picture them as very much the same. Upstate New York towns were very bucolic in those days and much of it still is.
What a sweet, lovely story. You were definitely the rich one for having an uncle like that.
I don’t think it’s nostalgia or prejudice when I say we don’t produce/tolerate “characters” like your uncle anymore. When I hear the stories the old-timers tell, I think that we have very ordinary, white-bread lives nowadays.
Right, Peg. Now in my later years, I am still appreciating the gift I was given. All from not just seeing him only as “different” back then, but as a person who added value to my life.
Wonderful piece. You look like him.
Good to hear again from my Elmira buddies. You probably saw him at some time or other. Thanks for your comment.
Sweet memories Al. Every family should have a rich uncle. I think you gave Ford as much or more than he gave you.
I would like to think that too, Jeri. Thanks for commenting.