Uncle Bob

Yesterday, on a clear, cold, spring day, they buried Robert Locke. His family came to my house afterward, fifty or sixty of them all packed in here. I don't really know a lot about Jenny's Uncle Bob, but who does. The man didn't talk. He did here and there, but he was just like the rest of Jenny's elders... stoic.

I have a couple solid memories of Bob. He always walked down to the little store on 68 to get his paper and what not, every morning. I told Perry, his son, that and he laughed..."The whole town probably knows him for that." Perry told me that his father ate the same exact breakfast every day... oatmeal and blueberries that he picked in the summer and froze. He also told me a few things that I didn't know; His Dad literally had never gone to the hospital before his stay 6 months ago...he died in his 80's. His father had tons of chickens, like hundreds at one point, and sold eggs around town on top of his other job at "Wayne Roy" (I think I may have misspelled that). He had rabbits too, and I think I remember that. He was an excellent gardner, Perry said it was out of necessity rather than pleasure, but that it turned in to something that he loved, or at least liked.

What I remember most about Uncle Bob, was that he was calm, reasonable and good. He seemed like he could hold everything together really well, and that he married Aunty Fran who was really fun, and funny. He was a really good guy. If God has respect for pureness of spirit, genuiness of character and decency of action, then Robert Locke is eating at his table right now... oatmeal and blueberries, I am sure.