Me and Uncle Ted

I want to tell you all about my Uncle Ted or Theron C. Teagle, Sr. Many people knew him much better than I. But each of us all have our own private relationships with the people in our lives. So, each of us have as many stories of who we are, as there are people in our lives. Even those that we have only brief encounters with may develop a story of who we are if the encounter is especially unique or emotional. Uncle Ted died this past Monday at age 94. He was the widower of my late Aunt Mary Josephine, my father's sister. Together, they were Aunt Jo and Uncle Ted. Uncle Ted was the last living member of my parent's generation of our family. His passing makes the absence of my own parents seem even more distant. He was the last one to have real live memories of my father as a boy, the little brother to his girl, Mary Jo. 

If we had held a contest of superlatives among the Franklin-Teagle clan, Uncle Ted would have won "best-looking" hands down. The Franklins tend to grow into adults that are a bit soft around the middle. Uncle Ted stood out at the family gatherings. There was no softness in his middle. As a former Golden Gloves Boxer, he looked the part. Broad shoulders, a straight and strong posture, and square jawed. In some photos he looks like he could be a famous movie star. He might appear a bit intimidating at first glance. But if you caught his attention, his face would soften, and his eyes took on a kind and welcoming shape.

 

As a child, I was shy and a bit nervous around groups that were as large as the gatherings of our extended family. I was the youngest of all my cousins and teenagers could be a bit too much for a six- or seven-year-old me. They were all kind to me, and all attempted to involve me in their activities. Uncle Ted seemed to have a knack for spotting when I might be feeling overwhelmed or occasionally left out. He would call, " Scott! Come over here. I want to talk with you a little bit." And I would go and talk with him. Maybe I am imagining it, but he seemed to be especially fond of me. That is probably the benefit of being the baby of the family.  Uncle Ted was not the type to suddenly pick me up or try to get to the bottom of what might be bothering me.

 

Instead, he would talk to me in a way that showed he had interest in me. He asked me questions. He asked what I thought about this or that. Sometimes, when he sensed that I was comfortable enough, he might put out his hands and say, "Come sit up here with me." And I felt safe in his strong arms. And I was fascinated by the tattoo of an anchor on his forearm. He did not want to talk about it too much. He said that I should never get one because you must live with it the rest of your life. On the rare occasion that I have considered a tattoo, I hear Uncle Ted's ominous warning about not being able to get rid of it.

 

It was not until the age of FaceBook that I began to see that not all our family members were on the same page politically. Politics were not really discussed at polite gatherings. Unfortunately, this new virtual space became an impolite gathering space. Impolite subjects are discussed and debated and argued. I can tell you that as far as politics was concerned, Uncle Ted and I were on opposite sides of most issues. But that does not change the way I knew him. I knew him as a man who took the time, always, to make sure that he and I would have one on one time at every family gathering. He continued to be interested in what I was up to and how me and my family were doing. He did not just inquire about our lives, he listened. And you knew he was listening because he had follow-up questions to every answer given.

I called Uncle Ted a few months ago. It had been a couple of years since I had last talked with him. He sounded exactly as he always had. At 93 years old he was clearly more mentally sharp than I have ever been in my life.  I had questions. I asked him about my dad as a boy. Uncle Ted was able to clarify some facts for me about the various spots in Charlotte that Dad and my grandmother had lived after my grandfather died at a very young age. We talked about Charlotte and how it has changed, we talked about my real estate business that I had just started. Uncle Ted gave me some excellent business advice. He had a real grasp for the economic changes happening in Charlotte versus Columbia where he lived most of his later half of life. It was one of the nicest conversations that I had in a while. We even said "I love you" to each other as we hung up our phones. Those were the last words between us. And the most important ones that we ever said to one another.