My Uncle Marvin: devoted father, husband, son, ba'al chesed (master of kindness), B-26 gunner, hero ...
If you do not or did not have an Uncle Marvin, I am sorry.
Married forever to Aunt Iris, we called her "Aunt I" because her sister, my mother, called her "I" which, on occasion, resulted in a grammatical glitch:
" 'I' is coming over for a few minutes."
"Huh? You is what?"
Uncle Marvin has always meant a lot to me ever since that day in 1960 when he picked us up: my mom, my brother Ron and me at Lambert Field in St. Louis in his red Chevrolet station wagon. My folks had recently divorced, Dad remained in Chicago while we moved to what would only become the "Gateway To The West" upon the completion of the Arch in 1965.
Our families gathered in Aunt I's den to watch The Wizard of Oz on their old black and white set. Uncle Marvin bought one of the first color sets. If you're too young or jaded to appreciate this, hey back then this was a big thing. If you promise not to tell this to anyone, I still cry when Dorothy says her goodbyes to her three special friends. You too, huh?
Whether Passover or Thanksgiving when we gathered for a family meal, Uncle Marvin, white shirt, tie and expert in turkey slicing, sat at the head of the table.
A good soul, Uncle Marvin was in the food brokerage business. As a boy, I wasn't sure what that meant but I do remember how much time he spent volunteering and donating to area food pantries. He was and remains one "who says little but does much".
A great laugher, Uncle Marvin laughed at all my jokes-no matter how clumsily I told them over. That I recall fondly about him, how genuinely he listened, how uproariously he laughed.
Accompanied by older son Craig, Uncle Marvin is in the nation's capitol to honor his fellow World War 2 veterans.
United States Air Force staff sergeant, Uncle Marvin was top turret gunner of two 50 caliber machine guns, and flew thirty-seven missions over France, Germany, Belgium and Holland in a B-26 medium bomber, carrying a payload of two 2000 lb. bombs and four 1000 lb. bombs.
Dear Uncle Marvin,
The hour is late and my typing skills are deteriorating. Enjoy this time with your son and may The Almighty grant you length of years!