Number 132

 Uncle Milan

I didn’t see much of my Uncle Milan over the last 35 years. He lived far away, our political opinions clashed, and an unfortunate family squabble all served to keep us apart. But, through my mother (his sister), I was kept apprised of how he was doing. I was aware that his health over the last few years was not very good, so, although saddened by his passing, I was not entirely surprised. And despite this decline in health, the image I always carry in my mind is the one of him as an heroic SOB dressed in his Ohio State Patrol uniform.

In the summer of 1977, my entire life got turned upside down when my parents separated. My dad soon moved out of state. Into the breach, stepped Uncle Milan. At the time, we lived in the same town as Milan and Patty. I didn’t realize this until I looked back much later, but all of a sudden, Uncle Milan was taking me with him on various errands and adventures. I suppose I was a source of cheap labor, but he kept me in Pepsi, and he always fed me lunch so, all in all, it was good times.

For the most part, we’d clear brush on the farm. He would chain saw the shit out of everything and I would haul it away and put it in big piles to be burned. Earlier, on our way to the farm, he always stopped and picked up a few old, treadless tires. Now, he would take one of those tires, pour a little gas on it, give it a light and… whoosh! A big black (and probably toxic) ball of smoke would head skyward. The purpose, of course, was to supply a source of fire strong enough to burn the green brush we were clearing. That his method of disposal was a little bit dangerous was very appealing to 11 year old me.

The other thing he did was allow me do was mow his lawn. I know how that sounds: “allowed me to mow his lawn” - but he had a John Deere riding lawn mower that he had taught me how to use, and if that isn’t some cool shit for a kid of my age at the time, I don’t know what is. This led to the one moment in time between Uncle Milan and me I will never forget. A moment of raw, exposed emotion that informed me how much he loved me.

I came visiting one hot, muggy midwestern summer day. The kind of day where you would start sweating just standing there. There was no breeze - you just felt encased by the wet air. In any event, my real reason for dropping by was to mow the lawn, and even though Uncle Milan was not at home, Aunt Patty gave me the okay, and I was off like a shot.

I went to the garage, where the lawn mower was parked against the back wall. Entering through the side door, the first thing I did was punch the button to open one of the automatic doors. I then walked to the mower, checked the gas tank, and realized it needed to be filled. As I was doing this, all of a sudden, a lick of flame shot out at me from the gas tank, scaring the shit out of me. I jumped back and dropped the gas can, all in one motion. I don’t know why I kept on moving, as opposed to stopping to try and figure out what happened, but it was a good thing I did - later we would realize my hair and eyebrows had been singed by the first burst of flame. By the time I stopped and looked back, the entire interior of the garage was ablaze.

I ran inside, and although I have no memory of what I said, Aunt Patty responded quickly. Soon the sirens from the fire engines could be heard. But by the time they arrived, the fire was fully engaged. All of a sudden, this was much too much for me. It was a total accident, and I wasn’t entirely sure how I had done it, but I had burned down the garage. I ran away, and hid in a corn field. I was at a complete loss as I wandered the streets with no idea of where I was going. I don’t know how long I wandered, but I was soon found by a police officer and driven back to the house. Uncle Milan was home by the time I arrived, and, with tears in his eyes, he engulfed me in a fierce hug. I can still feel it. 

Additionally, Uncle Milan was the one who finally figured out what happened. This was no small thing, either, for even the fire department folks were stumped. All I knew was that I felt a remorseless guilt that I had fucked up in some monumental way. By providing me with an explanation he enabled me to put that guilt to rest. This was a wonderful gift in its own right.

Remember how hot and muggy it was? How still the air was? When I walked in and opened the automatic door, I also turned on a light on the door opener engine mounted on the ceiling. Well, this light was programmed to shut off after, I don’t know, let’s say three minutes. There would have been a small spark when the bulb turned off - at the precise moment I was pouring gas in the mower’s tank. Given the weather, there would have been a huge concentration of gas fumes all around the mower just waiting for a spark to set them off. When Uncle Milan explained it to me, I felt so relieved. I hadn’t done anything wrong.

Rest in peace, Uncle Milan.