I’ve been thinking of Uncle Mick, who passed away last week. He was 90, and led a full life. He developed issues when he was 85, but until then, he was amazing. The Germans have a word for it – einmalig – One of a kind….

He was the youngest of the Hall family, and born in Southern Illinois. 3 older sisters, and 3 older brothers, plus a younger brother that died as a child; all are gone now. Gone, but not forgotten. The life they lived, particularly when younger, was much different from today. They were dirt poor, and grew up in the 20s, and then the depression of the 30s. It made them who they became as adults.

It’s impossible for me to think of Uncle Mick, without thinking of my dad at the same time. Dad was two years older, and basically, except for 4 years during WWII, they were together their whole lives. They complemented each other and fed off of each other. Laurel and Hardy, Simon and Garfunkel, Abbott and Costello, Mick and Keith….. They had nothing on Uncle Mick and Dad, or the stories they told.

We use to hear the stories at the kitchen table on Saturday mornings. The coffee pot was endless, as were the stories. You didn’t necessarily have to listen, but you had to be able to talk to be a Hall. Aunts and Uncles gathered around the table, telling stories of their youth, or the war, or later in life….Uncle Mick and Dad as kids discovering that Santa Claus was really Grandma…..Dad losing his jacket on a railroad car…..Dad joining the Army, and Uncle Mick joining the Navy….Dad wounded in Sicily…Uncle Mick on the beach at Normandy….parties in North Carolina….parties in New York….seeing their nephew Pooch during furloughs….getting hungover together after the war ended…..Mick and Dad buying a car together after the war….dad giving Mick advise about the bed springs at Aunt Ellen’s house (they were married two weeks apart and both went to Southern Illinois for their honeymoons)….the two buying a houseboat together…..

Eventually, both had kids, and we became a part of some of the stories. I remember them sitting together at our High School Football games, but they always sat in the visitor section, where they’d cheer for OHS….Uncle Mick cutting my hair for years (he learned it in the Navy)…..dinners out….drinks out….going to Naplate for chicken….Uncle Mick with some get rich quick scheme…..

I moved away to West Point, and then the Army. We’d get back on breaks, or later, on leave, and Saturday Mornings were always there at home, drinking coffee. Uncle Mick and Aunt Marge stopping by – What was new in the Army? What was happening in Germany? Had I taught those Russians a lesson yet?……Later, I was out of the army and working in industry. One of my projects was the Pentagon Renovation Program. When I was home, Uncle Mick inevitably asked me “Have you straightened things out at the Pentagon yet?” Always with a laugh, always with a smile…

After dad had his stroke, he recovered, but not all the way. I asked Uncle Mick to make sure he checked in on mom and dad, and that they were OK. He did so religiously, and continuously. He probably already was going to, but it was nice to know….

And now, he’s gone. The last of that generation for our family. Uncle Mick and I had a special relationship, one that I can’t quite explain to others, but I will never forget it. He was an amazing man, the best friend and brother to my own father. I will mourn him, but more than that, I will remember him, and honor him for the rest of my life.