Uncle Louie (1)
My Uncle Louie knew firsthand what life was like without a father so he, like my four other aunts and uncles, pitched in, tag-teamed, and together they filled our youth with patchwork love and stability.
Unencumbered by steady work, Uncle Louie took us on daytime adventures on mass transit: ducking under wooden turnstiles, telling bus drivers we were six; hiking the long ramp to the number 12 bus to Orchard Beach where he hung by the rocks in section six and rolled his own cigarettes, like a cowboy, he told us; fishing in Central Park pond where we borrowed line and bait and caught one, too, bending it in half and dunked in a large paper cup we also borrowed to head back uptown. He made sure we were safely on the six before heading downtown to the village, to jam, to cop, to hang out.
And last year I was reminded of the time he took us to the riding stables on Pelham Parkway. A day in the country. I’m still not sure why or how but my sister and I both called him Daddy, and years later he would laugh at how he would be hitting on some flower child and we’d race up to him, a white five year old and a black seven year old screaming Daddy!, and meaning it, naturally, lovingly, to our 20 year-old uncle. But I do remember that day on the horse, the moment when the horse started galloping with me bobbing on top, holding onto the reins like Captain Parmenter on F Troop, panicky, time standing still, I’m sure I was screaming Daddy! because this dragon I was latched on to was ready to take flight. And glancing back, here came my Uncle Louie, hauling ass with his polio leg, afro billowing, and he caught us, grabbed my right foot and yanked me the fuck off off the demon mare from behind. I remember the horse kept going but I have no recollection of hitting the gravelly turf or any injuries, just the gratitude and safety of Daddy saving my ass.
My boys are five and three now and Fatherhood does this to me, opens up gorgeous memories of love and family and gets me weepy as a Sicilian widow. I took them horseback riding and as I hoisted him up on the horse I told the big one to make sure and hold on to the little one and he did, gently and proudly, and my sons knew, and felt, that Papi was right there watching them.
