Aura Nelson
Oftentimes, memories become even more important after someone is gone but I knew every memory of Donny was special long before he was gone.
Some of my most cherished memories from when I was a child were created by my Uncle Donny. He had an aura of mystery to him – traveling the world painting water towers and getting into trouble but always taking the time to stop and send a postcard to his nieces and nephew. Our biggest trip growing up was to see Grandma and Papa once a year in St. Clair so Donny’s postcards provided glimpses into a world we could only imagine. One that stands out is a postcard from Alaska with gads of walruses piled together sunning themselves. In his typical fashion, Donny wrote simply, “Having a ball here in Alaska. Love, Donny.” I still have many of his postcards – still carefully pasted into my childhood scrapbooks.
And he would always send gifts from all over the world. Tortoise shell from Jamaica, ivory from Alaska, turquoise from the Dakotas…and my favorite…a box of giant grizzly bear slippers from Alaska. Our family walked around looking totally ridiculous in our oversized grizzly bear slippers with claws. He must have gotten such a kick out of picturing us all shuffling around like bears.
But the best gift of all was just him, in person, larger than life. We LIVED for these visits. Donny’s visits were the most exciting thing that could have ever happened to us in the U.P. He was always letting us in on his trouble making, letting us drive his truck on Dukes Road, climbing the score board at the ball park, playing tricks on mom (whom he called “the warden”) and always siding with us when it came to bedtimes and other rules. One night he babysat us (!!) while mom and Mike went out to eat and let us stay up way past our bedtimes playing Monopoly. We took turns being on the lookout for the headlights coming into the drive so we could all spring into action and jump into our beds to pretend we were asleep. I still remember listening through the floorboards as he told mom and Mike that we had been asleep for hours in his voice that had a hint of mischief to it.
Whenever Donny would leave, I would feel just panicked knowing that we might not see him for a couple or few years. I would grab his legs and he’d walk around with me like I was just a large growth hanging on. When that failed, I’d throw myself in front of him at the doorway and plant my hands and feet on the doorframe to stop him. I’d do anything to make him stay another day. The biggest gloom would settle over us after he left – his warmth, love, and complete mischief brightened out lives so immensely that we felt like we were in a vacuum after he left, just wandering around getting used to “normal” again.
I still feel the same way about my uncle. He was the best uncle this kid could have. As a kid, I never could prevent him from leaving despite my desperate attempts and I couldn’t have stopped him from leaving this time either. Just like the little girl clinging to his legs, I’m saddened and left reeling when I think of a life without my wild uncle Donny.
