I just wrote this during the week, but it seemed to fit. So, an extra little bonus as we wind up the Eighties:
Absent a trusted father figure, I turned throughout my childhood and adolescence to my uncles for male guidance and role models. My Uncle Mike taught me to fish. I developed my love of reading from my Uncle Monti’s bookshelves of horror novels. My Uncle Butch Proctor taught me sarcasm. My Uncle Butch Martin also taught me sarcasm. My Uncle Dana took me to Tae Known Do lessons when I was continually beat up in grade school. My Uncle Harry taught me by example to bear the blows of life with gentle humor. My Uncle Buster fixed my car and watched basketball games with me in high school. My Uncle Rob introduced me to my birth father. My Uncle Joe Gaines became my Alateen sponsor. My Uncle Brian sent me his two front teeth for Christmas when I was two years old, thirteen years before I ever met him. At least half of these men are not actually my uncles.