A Slice of Life Sunday#2: Nicknames

I adored my Uncle John, my father's older brother. When I was a little girl, I thought he was the handsomest man I'd ever seen. He walked with a limp, his foot permanently turned to the side. My father said a car ran over my uncle's foot when they were boys. It was one of the things I can count one hand my dad telling me about his childhood.

My Uncle John had a special pet name for me, Cassie-May. May is my middle name and no one had ever used it before. My uncle used to make up silly little songs and he had one with my special nickname in it. I loved to listen to him sing and tell stories.

When he came to visit us on Long Island from the city, he would always wake my brother and me early the next morning. Taking us by the hands we would walk to the grocery store and deli which were at least a half mile away from home. Along the way, he'd entertain us with songs and stories and he'd always sing me my special song. We would buy bagels, rolls, eggs, bacon and donuts and walk back home where he would make us all a big breakfast.

I loved it when he called me Cassie-May. It felt like a loving caress. When I was a little girl like that, I had no idea that my uncle drank so much. I didn't know that he was unhappy and that he often fought with other people. I didn't know why he never married. It seemed like he would make one heck of a wonderful father--but I was glad he didn't because then it was like I had a second dad. I didn't realize he would be so heart broken after my grandmother died that he too would fade away and die.

But you know what? The love never dies and maybe that's why I still remember him so well to this day. I still miss him. I still love him. I can still hear him say Cassie-May and I still can hear him sing me my special song.