My first memory of Uncle Danny was before I was five. When I got up, he was stirring from the couch in our apartment in Halifax. He was on a "trip". Beside him there was a toy tanker truck and a bulldozer. He gave me the truck, and my sister Lynn the bulldozer. He was happy to see everyone, and I didn't want him to leave.
Later, he moved to Cape Breton. He "let" me mow his lawn. I took a liking to Cheryl's bike. Wow, so agile; this thing goes! I was scrambling up a steep hill like the motorbikes I saw on TV. Pretty rough and tumble.
"Billy, would you want someone to ride your bike like that?"
No scolding, no judgement, just a question. That hit my little brain. It was a perfect lesson about respect.
Uncle Danny, I regret not seeing you more. That's on me. Miss you.
Posted by Bill
Thursday June 28, 2018 at 9:47 pm