Uncle Fred Took Pictures

How can I go back in time to recall what I seem unable to remember?

I asked myself last week, "Carol, what is your first memory?" Well, more accurately it would be..."What is your youngest memory?"

I must answer that I am not sure.

It seems I have no recollection from my first four years. Even if I do, I would wonder how much is my recollection and how much has been planted there by photographs.

My favorite uncle was Uncle Fred. Uncle Russell was right up there with Fred, but Uncle Russell died when I was around six years old, I think.

Uncle Fred was a photographer and was one of Daddy's brothers. He was easy-going. When I was around Uncle Fred, I felt calm. He had a gentle laugh and his gait when he walked was poised without being snobbish. It's like he had soft shoes.

I liked Uncle Fred's Jaguar. I think it was white on the outside with tan leather interior. The dash board had all sorts of gauges and lights. I felt like a secret agent when I got to ride in it, which wasn't often because Uncle Fred lived at Daytona Beach and we lived in North Carolina.

Almost every summer our family would visit Daytona, until I was 18 years old.

Fred always had white hair. Perhaps it was silver at one time, but I remember it always being white.

Fred was married to Lucille. I liked Aunt Lucille but she seemed rather spacey and too girlie for me. I was a tomboy and wasn't the girlie type.

Aunt Lucille helped in the photography studio. She would help prepare people before a photo shoot and, up until color film was up to standard, she'd add color by hand to the photographs, enhancing the various hues.

Lucille had a parrot that could sing "Dixie."

Uncle Fred took me to Cape Canaveral when I was around 10 years old. I'll always remember riding the tour bus through the facility and seeing the eight-foot long windshield wipers on one of the gigantic trucks that hauled part of the rocket to the launch pad.

Fred always enjoyed watching the night launches from a restaurant on the mainland.

I last saw Uncle Fred in 2007. He was 92, I think, and still living at home. Same mannerisms, though a bit more cynical. He had only recently given up golf - said his eyes were bad.

He died within a year of that visit.

I hope I've inherited his longevity. So far, I'd say his genes are on my side. That I'm still alive is pretty amazing.

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