To Good Doin’…

The last time I saw you Uncle Skill was a few days after my Dad passed. Kim brought you over to be with us at our home as we mourned his passing and prepared for the upcoming funeral. By this time dementia had begun to slowly pick away at the man that I remembered from my childhood and young adult life, but glimmers of the man I knew and loved still remained. Not fully understanding all that was going on you asked Kim, “Where’s Howard?” To which she lovingly and painfully reminded you that he had passed away.

Now as we come together to mourn your passing just five months later, I think back to your simple question about my Dad and it doesn’t sting as much. Perhaps the Lord was preparing you for what was to come and you were just looking for your friend Howard, who you affectionately called “My MAN!”

You two were the best of friends. Cleveland’s own version of Steve and Wardell from Uptown Saturday Night — entertaining, mischievous and sho’ nuff funny. More importantly for me, you both were shining examples of black manhood. Loving, caring providers who shared all that they had with the ones they loved. How lucky and blessed I am to have had you both.

I will always be grateful to God that He placed you and your family right next door to my family on 102nd and St. Clair so many years ago. How you were such a support to my mom and became a father figure to her — even walking her down the aisle on her wedding day. A smile always crosses her lips when she recalls how you clicked your heels when you gave her away to my father at the alter. But that was your way, and we loved you for it.

Though my tears flow for you, they don’t last long because of the rich memories that you left imprinted in me. Those memories fill my spirit, and I smile, that smile turns to laughter, and that laughter brings peace and understanding.

Like the time you whooped me in basketball. I thought for sure that I had the upper hand being younger and all, but you certainly schooled me. Or watching you and my dad attempt to move or fix something which usually resulted in a comical outcome — like when you all tried to move a refrigerator out of our house — while trying to bring it down our front steps it fell over and knocked you into the bushes. I remember our long talks about books, philosophy and life. You reciting “A Ladie’s Man” or your own special version of Shakespeare, “But soft! What light through yonder window breaks…WHO THREW THAT STONE??!?”

I’ll miss my roller coaster partner. People couldn’t understand why they couldn’t ride with me when we went to Cedar Point. I had to tell them that the seat next to me is reserved for my Uncle Skill. We would ride every roller coaster in the park. One time you lost your glasses as we flew down one of the hills. And you used to crack up at me as I would try to time my pose just right for the cameras. You’ll always be my riding buddy. No one could ever take your place.

You always said you felt that God put black folks on earth to “tickle Him” with our shenanigans. Well you certainly tickled all of us. You brought so much joy to so many while you were here, and now God has brought you home to tell some “pop-eyed rusties” to Him and Auntie Carletta and my Dad up in heaven. Those memories will sustain those you left behind and your legacy will live on through all of us.

So to the man they called “Good Doin’” Worth, I tip a corner of brandy to you. Dig that!! Till we meet again… ~Nikki