UNCLE SAM AND OTHER FAMILY LEGENDS

My nextdoor neighbor passed away suddenly.  She was there one day, alive and always cheerful; now her home is dark.  The light that glowed from her windows is gone and with that darkness comes a cold feeling of loneliness.  She reminded me so much of my grandmother - they both no matter what their malady - always had a smile…

And then I think of my Ethel and her stories that I loved to hear growing up.

Ethel May Miller.  The ninth, last and youngest child of John and Nellie – 8 brothers and one little girl.  Charlie, Roy, Tom, Sam, Owen and three others boys who died at birth and were never named.

Nanny grew up in Vineland in the center of South Jersey and it was easy on a summer night to get her started on an “Old Time” story as I called her reminiscing.

Born in 1907 she would live through many changes that quickly came with the new century.  

It was hard for me to visualize that her main street the now busy Landis Avenue, named after the developer of the area, was just a dirt, rutted, country road when she was a toddler. 

Nanny chuckled.  “I was told by my brothers as soon as I could walk I was always wandering away from our porch.  So mother charged them to “watch baby Ethel.  This they hated to do as it took away from their play.  So Sam, the orneriest of all the boys took a rope and tied an old broken shovel blade to it and the other end he wrapped around me.  When I decided to take a stroll I would leave a trail behind me in the dirt – and one of brothers would track me and bring me back to our front door.  I guess it worked, because I never got lost…and lived all these years.”

Nanny would then be quiet for awhile and I knew she was thinking about how her big brothers were now her “old brothers” and that they each had some health issues like she did - except Sam who was still the black sheep – many times arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct and other misdemeanors.  

He rarely held a job his life or held his family together.  When he would visit her which was rare, Nanny knew he need a few bucks.  

She would roll her eyes, open her big purse as he left and admonish him – “Samuel, this is the last time…and I mean it!”

Unlike my grandmother, I thought his tipsy visits were a hoot.  He usually only stayed a few minutes. Regaled us with some tall tales of an exploit or a close escape and then he called a cab and disappeared for another few years.

One afternoon Nanny open the Daily Republican newspaper that Kirby our paperboy hurled in a different spot each day, always narrowly missing a window or the roof.  

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed.  She shook her head and went back to her ironing (she seemed to be always pressing stuff).

I picked up the paper and scanned the front page - a short article below the fold read: “MAN FOUND IN DRYER – The owners of the City LaundroMat called police to report that they had found a man sleeping in their large clothes dryer this morning.  A patrolman was dispatched and reported that he found an individual know to him as one Samuel Miller, address unknown.  Mr. Miller was arrested for several charges and transported to the Cumberland County Hospital for evaluation before being returned to the city lockup…”

My grandmother's loan had apparently been put to use and for certain was now gone.

Uncle Sam continued his antics for years afterward to my Nanny’s constant worry and my delight.

And he outlived all of his brother’s until only he and Nanny remained.  She said alcohol was running through his veins.  “Sam was pickled - you couldn't kill Sam with a stick!” 

TO BE CONTINUED