I was about three years old when a tall, nicely dressed man wearing an overcoat, a homburg hat, and a short beard, trimmed just so, walked right into our house.

"Hey kid, where's your mama?" he asked with a twinkle in his mischievoue blue eyes.

He was my mother's brother and he'd come to stay with my grandmother; I visited her every chance I got.

This uncle who never called me anything but "Hey kid" became my idol and I became his constant companion. I never asked him questions with no good reason and he didn't speak to me like some adults talk to children. We had a silent understanding; the two of us.

When I was eleven he passed away; I still miss him terribly. I didn't get to know him long enough, he left far too soon; but someday.....