Uncle James

My grandfather's brother, James, and his wife Mable have always been a great part of our lives.

They didn't have children. They had a dog (Suzette) that died when I was in college and I have no recollection of Uncle James & Aunt Mable before Suzette. Aunt Mable passed away a couple of years ago; Uncle James soon moved to an assisted-living facility in our hometown. Uncle James is now around for a lot of family events.

Over Thanksgiving, Cora was spinning the corner-cabinet lazy susan at my parent's house.

Mia: Cora, you're going to cut your finger off!
Cora (with big eyes): Like Uncle James!?!?!

Uncle James lost a finger years ago. I don't even know how (machine work? a war?). Two things always stood out about Uncle James 1) his little dog Suzette and 2) his missing finger.

Uncle James had a big laugh when he heard that she'd noticed; he said that they hadn't talked about it directly, but he'd noticed her eyeing it with fascination.

On Friday night, Dad met me halfway between Paintsville and Charleston, parked his vehicle and drove me the rest of the way to Kentucky. We do this trip several times a year. It was an adventurous trip this time. We were late meeting dad due to spring break traffic leaving Charleston. Then at Chik-fil-et the manager and I collided while I was carrying Cora, she flung out of my arms and hit her head, and then because he wasn't dressed in official gear and was a bit grabby in trying to help us up, I thought he was trying to kidnap her (I was on the brink of making a huge scene) (in my defense, he looked like what I think a creepy kidnapper would look like and he was probably overly trying to help because, well, he was the manager and probably thought we'd sue... and I imagine he didn't think of himself as someone who looked like he might kidnap children). This was a trip for the memories.

Before this, while we were eating dinner at Chik-fil-et, dad and I were having a very casual conversation:

Me: How's Uncle James doing?
Dad: He's doing pretty well. He had the stomach bug last week.
Cora (with total nonchalance and in perfect cadence with conversation): Did his finger ever get fixed?

Clearly this  missing finger made an impression on her.