My Great Uncle Dan: A Descriptive Essay

I'm embarrassed to say my second thought was that of relief when my mother called to say that he was dead. It had only been a short time, but I could never deal with someone being in pain or the thought of a machine keeping them from going to a better place. After all of his children, and a few extended family members had shown up and said their good byes, finally, it was over. In the past few years his health had been extraordinary. He always seemed to be in the best of health, one minute he would be out at the ranch helping a hand and the other minute he would be in his khaki pants and pin stripped polo shirt out on the golf coarse hoping for that hole in one. On that Tuesday afternoon I called my family to see if I should make the 13 hour puddle jumping flight across country for the funeral. Having the Satisfaction of being there to help comfort the rest of the family, was worth dealing with all the airport congestion as others would franticly push their way through crowds to get to their next flight.

It was only about five years later I was graduating high school and enlisting in then U.S. Navy. Being one that had previously served in the Navy during the post WWII time, he seemed to be one of the most proud and honored seeing me in the traditional Dress Blue Uniform that still holds strong in the naval ranks today. I remember at my oldest brother’s wedding him shaking my hand with his strong yet dried out callused hand and giving me a salute the first time I returned home after signing my life away for the next four years. He was one that truly made me feel proud to be serving in the greatest military on this planet.

I remember when I was a little kid working in the shop with my Great Uncle Dan. I lived only about 500 feet down the gravel country road from our farm shop where you could always watch the sweat roll down his forehead and drip onto his grease and dirt soiled coveralls as he would be holding a ratchet getting the last bolt tightened up, ensuring that it would not have any slight chance to loosen up. It wasn’t more then six years later he decided to turn his coveralls into rags and retire from an exhausted forty years on the farm. Throwing a retirement party after his final harvest as a partner my dad along with the few other cousins that work on the farm made jokes commemorating the good times and bad ones that they all spent together.
After retirement, my great aunt and he finally had the chance to go travel, most of all, be able to visit their children and grandchildren. Most of their travels consisted of driving as far as Southern California then up the ridged coast line to Seattle, giving them the opportunity to see everything and everyone they knew in the middle. After returning from their trips through the big cities he would always voice his opinions on how much he hated the congestion and the time wasted from sitting in bumper to bumper traffic not exceeding five miles per hour. He would always praise the enjoyment of living in a freeway-free small town.
Taking a lot of life for granted, I had forgotten about the real man that was my uncle. He had been retired from Wittman Farms for about seven years at the time of his death. But people who worked for or around him ten years before he retired came to his wake. "He was the best person to work around." "I'll never forget how understanding he was when my wife and I had problems. He was so supportive." "Dan was so much fun; he made work a really nice and enjoyable place to go to every day." For hours, the people just kept coming, waiting in line to speak to our large sobbing family. I could finally reflect on the person he'd been before and put the past few days behind me.
He was the man who had grown up with two older brothers and a workaholic father making the boys take care of all the chores and provide for their mother and four other sisters when their dad was out plowing the fields. He was the man who enlisted in the Navy in hopes that the two older brothers could stay home and work on the ever fast growing farm. He was the man who raised money for United Way every year. He was the man that not only showed and taught the hard ethics of work to the twenty-five children from the three families but also played with them when he had the chance. He worked hard, made a good living, and was a wonderful father, husband, grandfather and uncle!
And it finally occurred me just how lucky I'd been to have him be a part in my life.