A Special type of Uncle, and Funny Money
Out of my few uncles in my youth my utterly joyous uncle Sonny was always my favorite, no contest. I didn’t love many people as a small boy (in fact there was only hatred between my mother and me), but I adored Sonny wholeheartedly. He was one of the few members of my eccentric family that exuded joy like an ambitious ray of light.
As far as Sonny looked, imagine a kinder, softer, and more humorous version of Telly Savalas. He was 100 percent bald, ghostly pale, thick eyebrows, and eternally wore a mischievous smile; Sonny adorned himself with white clothing 6 days a week because he loved the color. Only ever taking Sunday off to wear black for church. But white was his essence, goodness personified, always with a hint of mirth and mischief in his eye.
Sonny was almost always perpetually funny, generous, or just kind to all in general. I swear Sonny wouldn’t squash a single fly, it just wasn’t in his kind nature. He was maybe the most giving and funny soul I’ve ever known personally. When someone long ago invented the phrase “life of the party”, I’d swear they must have known Sonny for themselves, and therefore were inspired to create that very term.
During family gatherings, he was always the center of all activities and attention, whether by choice, attitude, or just his nature. Every holiday Sonny was the focus of every family gathering. His humor was addicting, and his presence naturally comforting. Socially, he was very special, and in all my years, I’ve never met another being even close to his jovial nature or even anyone that shared his special personal magnetism.
I have a distant memory, when I was around 8, of heading downstairs to visit Sonny and my Aunt Red for a bit. I was visiting my grandparents at the ancient family house, and Aunt Red and Sonny permanently lived below. They were entertaining another couple as well that evening, and Red was sitting in her usual lazy boy-type comfy chair, her aluminum handicapped walker at her side, and Sonny was entertaining everyone with his funny stories.
I remember him always being full of energy, like a young child, except he was in his late 50s by that time (or older, I'm not really sure). Maybe his soul was young, and always would be.
Uncle Sonny was like a dynamo made of Joy, a colorful top spinning for eternity; He was certainly my favorite uncle (not that I had a variety to choose from), and he made a strong impression on me that lasted my entire life.
As soon as he saw me enter the living room that evening, his face beamed at me. He smiled warmly, happily and the room got visibly brighter. "Johnny, get over here," Sonny said, with kindness, arms extended open for a short hug.
After this, he looked straight at me, and still grinning, almost madly, he reached into his white jacket's inner pocket and brought out a one-dollar bill. He showed it to me: “Johnny, you can have this freely, but there’s one thing you need to always remember before I hand it to you. In these troubled times, you really need to stretch your dollars”. He held the dollar in both hands and slowly proceeded to stretch it from both ends, longer and longer till it was double its length! It snapped back with a sharp sound, and he then handed it to me, and I finally realized it was a rubber buck! Astounding! I was amazed and oh-so-happy.
It was one of his many minor practical jokes that he was notorious for, and this made me love him all the more. I laughed, happily pocketing the rubber buck, and got another big hug from him, and a welcome rare invitation to raid his bedroom bottom drawer.
My Uncle Sonny had a very interesting and odd hobby, and he kept it in his bedroom, specifically in that particular lowest drawer. He collected all kinds of chocolate candy bars. I think he was secretly addicted to chocolate and never mentioned it to others, especially Aunt Red (she was a diabetic), but as his only nephew, I knew. It was a secret we shared, Sonny and me.
In the allotted drawer, was every kind of chocolate-based candy bar anyone could ever possibly want. His only rule was that I could only take two, but any two I wished, and if I ever took more than two, I’d never get another; So I followed his rule to the letter, still being a fairly honest boy at the time.
I grabbed different ones every time he invited me. Sonny was like me, he loved to experiment, and he lived life to its fullest, trying literally everything he could. We very much had that in common.
I have zero doubt he kept perfect count at all times, and would have known quickly if I took more than my allotted two bars. Because of Sonny, I became familiar with brands and tastes I’d never get to know otherwise, living in total abject poverty. I tried everything I could, whenever I was invited to visit.
As far as his humor, once I was at a July 4th family celebration at my Aunt Sandy’s house, and both Sonny and uncle Joe were in joyously drunken attendance, boldly wearing matching white adult-sized diapers and loving the absurdity of it at, which the family and guests enjoyed as well.
They both stayed that way the entire day, and the liquor flowed, as well as the laughs. Yes, he was a special uncle, and 40 years later, long after his death, I love him still, and always will. Gone, but never forgotten. Rest in peace Sonny, live forever now in this tale.
The End
