I hope you don't mind that I put down in words, how wonderful life is while you're in the world

When she was young, Maya Angelou and James Baldwin were in a writers collective in Harlem. Maya Angelou said "everything should be written with the urgency as though you have a gun in your mouth."

I obviously haven't. It's because I've been down and while I find it relieving to put my thoughts on the record, I've been living in my body instead of on the page.

I think that this is useful to express, share, relieve, explore. I am able to move through and experience emotions, you know: living, dying, and trying to sift through it all. Difficulties in all these things that I face, whether that is with family or friends, there needs to be a process, like flossing and brushing, but for my soul and not just my teeth. This is the window that opens, that allows some air in, some other light, some possibility so that I can explore past the immediacy of everything I feel. If I didn't open myself to the possibilities of the putting these unknown thoughts onto a known piece, then I would be lost.

I avoided the sadness of losing my uncle. Not completely, but this is the closest I've come to talking about it. He was a good man. A stubborn, hard-headed, charming, fearless, and wonderful man. He taught me about being fearless, about being able to do the best thing - even if it's the most difficult.

Kids in broken homes often have others step in to help raise them - if they're lucky. It's because 2 parents, divorced, with no significant other in the household need to go out and do in order to raise the child. Michael was one of the people who helped.

My dad and uncle shared a house because, two divorced guys will find solace with each other and help each other when needed. Brothers look out for brothers. Each Saturday, I'd sit at the TV, watching my cartoons - My favorite was X-men. My dad, Steven, would make breakfast for all of us and leave for his job at the brewery.

Michael was up first and I was up afterward. There would be silver-dollar pancakes, hard-boiled eggs, and matchbooks of bacon - sticks and sticks. Normally, Michael would go out, get his crab legs, get his newspaper, and get ready to break them open and enjoy some football. This time, my cartoons ran long and both things overlapped.

This was big time though - The Dark Phoenix Saga!

As the adult in the room, he wanted to get control of the TV. He obviously got it, but made me a deal: open the crab legs for him and change the channel between Redskins coverage and cartoons and I could watch - as long as I didn't miss too much of his team.

I thought it was a raw deal and asked him, "why?"

He said, "if it's really worth it, you'll work hard to get what you want."

He wasn't perfect, but he was great to me.

Michael was married twice. The first woman I have almost no recollection of. They were done when I was still in jumpers, and he was probably my age now. The second woman, who is still a good friend of the family and was a good friend of his until his death, was a sweetheart. I know why they didn't work out: two strong-willed people can't make it work sometimes.

Once, he told me, "I've been married twice and divorced twice. If I ever get married again, it'll be to the grave. I'm never going through all of that ever again."

It's hard to see that he's actually gone. 62 years is a long time, but not nearly enough. The funeral was amazing. You'd never know one person had so many friends, so much family. People came from California, Florida, and of course Washington, D.C.. People from high school, his air force days, and former co-workers. You'd never know so many people would see you off into what comes next. The stories about him were great. One friend, who's a coach at Hampton University, said it best,

"I used to call him when we would watch Redskins games and he would be so angry about how they were doing. Every game. We would break down the plays and shake our heads in disgust. But after he passed - not passed, but left us, I realized I'd never get to speak with him again. It hurts"

The memorial ended with my father speaking about him. Everyone sang his favorite song, Elton John's "Your Song," and we all realized that we all knew him in our own way and would miss him dearly.

The First Time Drinking with Michael and his Friends

I was hanging out with Uncle Mike and his buddies and the night was only beginning - drinking, eating, and playing guitars.

There was Hennessy on a tray. I'd never had Hennessy. I never tried it and I'm thinking, "I'm about to try Hennessy tonight!"

And this is me - a wine drinker and beer drinker and I saw a wine glass and treated it like red wine. I did a red wine glass pour of Hennessy and

I'm.
Feeling.
It.

I grabbed the guitar and I'm playing some songs I know, I'm like, "Yes! This is the shit!"

I pour myself another glass of Hennessy, a red wine glass of it, drink that down, singing along with some of his friends - now my friends!

I pour myself a third glass. Oh jeez.

And then, his friend Raoul breaks in with a bag of 40s and I think, "Oh! Forties! This is my speed! How'd you go and get a throwback 40?!" And he handed me one.

So then I have a 40 in one hand and a glass of Hennessy in the other and I'm on the back porch with these drinks, singing along at this point because my hands aren't working the notes or even chords I want. The second thing I notice is that I pour out a little of the 40 on his ex-wife's fake designer bag and she gets a little upset

"Oh no! Why!? You asshole!"

"Please, that shit's fake, you need to go get yourself a knock-off from Dapper Dan’s"

Everyone breaks out laughing.

"You bought that from Gucci? You're a fool if you bought that from Gucci!"

So I was feeling myself, having fun. Then I go inside to go use the bathroom. I go inside and there's the double doors: One to the mud room and one into the house where there's a bathroom just past the kitchen. Between those two doors, I don't make it - I vomit. I fall down. I'm there, nearly inaudible. Michael cleans it up, I think I'm better and go on toward the bathroom.

I make it to the bathroom, I do my business and come back out. I think I'm better.

I come back out. I fall down again. This time, Michael helps me up and takes me over to the couch. In all my clothes, I lay there, not asleep, but just unfortunately drunk and collapsed. The rest of the night, a bunch of people come through the house and whisper, "Oh that's his nephew, Julien." The worst part is that I missed Lawrence Taylor showing up late in the night. I could hear the party behind me, outside of me, but just couldn't make it.

The next day, we go out to lunch and I'm a wreck. It's pretty quiet and he looks over and says, "maybe don't drink as much? We liked having you there and would've loved to have had you the rest of the night."

"I know, but I just wanted to hang."

"I know, but we're not the same person. Don’t be like me"

I'll miss him. Ultimately, it reminds me that everyone is getting ever closer to the end. Let’s enjoy it while we can, right?