Happy 80th Birthday To My Uncle Bobby

I have decided to participate in the National Blog Post Month for November.  That means I am going to be posting each day in November.

November 17, 2013

We attended a party last night for my Uncle Bobby.  He will be celebrating his 80th birthday on November 20.  
My grandparents were born in Italy and immigrated to America when they were young adults.  When they arrived they reunited with their large extended family of first, second and third cousins. 
They had ten children, five boys and five girls.  Bobby was the youngest of the five boys. 
I was his first niece and he was only fourteen when I was born.  
We frequently visited my grandparents’ house and he was the fun young uncle.  He let me drive his ’55 Chevy well before I was eligible for a driver’s license. 
At one point last night, the guests were asked if they wanted to share a special memory or story about Bobby.  I do have many memories of time spent with my uncle, but I didn’t have any one specific tale to relate.  
The thing about Uncle bobby is he was and still is the story teller.  He always has one.  He was a traveling salesman, gregarious, and has met many people over the years.
He also fancies himself to be the family historian.  
And that is really the nature of my Uncle.  It is endearingly obvious that family is most important to him.   He jokes with all of his nieces and nephews, and there are thirty of us, that each one of us are his favorite.   What is truly amazing is that we each probably secretly believe that we are the one, his favorite. 
At the start of the evening, as he made his way around the room full of about 100 guests,  he spotted me.  We greeted each other and I noticed that he had a quizzical look on his face.  He said that he wanted to ask or tell me something, but he couldn’t remember what it was.  
When we were getting to leave, I went up to him for a final chat.  We said good-night and I as I turned towards the door, he touched my arm and told me that he remembered what he wanted to ask me.
“How’s the family?”  He asked.  “Is everyone doing okay?”
My uncle’s little granddaughter said in a few brief words what best describes the essence of my uncle.  When asked why she thought Poppa was special, she replied,“Because he loves us and takes good care of us.”