Thanksgiving

Uncle Monty1

Butter being sliced off the top of the stick instead of the side. That was one of the things that I remember most about my Uncle Monty, on the rare occasions when we went up to West Virginia for Thanksgiving, every few years.2

Uncle Monty was tall and dark, a rugged man who his wife would always say looked like the Brawny man from the T.V. commercials. He had had a hard life, and was working currently at a construction site near the Ohio River.3

He had very few manners, and hardly knew how to eat food properly, without spilling it onto him. He would reach out and grab the food with his hands, ignoring all the serving instruments. He reminded me of the medieval knights, who would tear at their food, guzzle beer and throw food at the dogs. He even would belch at the end of a meal, like they did. 4

Of course, he was family, and I had to respect him. I was just appalled and intimidated by this giant of a man with no more manners than an ogre. I could see no reason why he deserved my respect.5

I was in W.V. again for the eighth time. I was twelve then. We had had a horrible drive up there; it was raining all the way. We were late getting there. He was even later getting there. We waited for hours, my stomach feeling as hollow as the turkey-less oven. Finally he got there, after we had already started. I was feeling very mad at him, and did not say hello.6

When we were all seated at the dinner table he told us why he was late. 7

What had happened was that at the construction site, they were working on the bridge directly above the river. They had been told to put on their safety belts, and to fasten them to other support chains, if it ever rained. It started pouring, and the winds started rising. All of the workers fastened their belts. Unfortunately one of the belts was defective. The worker fell into the river when he slipped on a puddle of water. The only one near him was Monty. Nobody could hear Monty’s cries for assistance, and so he plunged into the river.8

Monty was an excellent swimmer, but to swim in the currents of the Ohio River when it is angry is no easy task. He barely made it to where the poor man, half drowned from overexertion, was floundering hopelessly in the water.9

Monty grew silent as he got to that part, and then said quietly that the man had made it to a hospital, and was doing fine.10

He never bragged about saving that mans life. He only said that he was there at the right time. 11