Babcia said to me, “Don’t you have anyone else to write about?” So with that subtle hint in mind, I thought, why yes I do. Of course once I told her I was going to write about someone else, she asked, “You mean you aren’t going to write about me?” And so it goes.

Although Babcia is the ‘star of the show’, there are many people who have touched my life and made it better. One of those is my Uncle Buck, a/k/a Unce Dave, a/k/a John Cornwell. My dad’s younger brother, he was a huge personality and full of life. I started calling him Uncle Buck back around the time that movie came out, because he reminded me so much of John Candy’s character in the movie. A big softie, kind hearted, great sense of humor, and always involved in shenanigans. His laugh was as big as his heart. When I was little, I remember going to visit him. It was a bit of a ride, close to our house but not too close. He lived away from the city and ‘out in the country’ so to speak. I remember playing with his sons, my cousins, running wild in the hills and getting dirty. I was the only girl surrounded by boys between them and my brother, and I loved it. They always treated me like one of the boys. When I was very young, I was terrified of dogs and my older cousin Jimmy or my dad would carry me from the car to the house or vice versa, through the yard and above the barking dogs. As I got older and that fear subsided, I became more comfortable running around outside with the boys. We played basketball, played in the creek, rode dirt bikes, jumped around the edge of the bonfires our dads would build out in the yard at night. We’d always come home worn out from playing outside all day long.

As I got a little older we stopped going to visit as much and things changed. My aunt Loretta passed away, the boys grew up and went out into the world, and my Uncle Dave moved away. He always came back to visit my dad though. I remember always being excited when he would come because my dad would lighten up and be happy to see him. It was like a party at our house whenever Uncle Dave came to town. I’m not sure my mom always appreciated that, but it went on nevertheless. Uncle Buck always had a smile and a joke for you. He worked hard, loved hard, and played hard. He was just so much fun to be around, always kidding. I remember many nights when he and my dad would be out on the front porch, sipping on their beers and telling stories about their childhood. Someone played pranks on mammaw, someone set something on fire, someone put salt in the sugar bowl. They’d blame everything on each other; I may never really know who did what. It was good to hear tales of when they were younger, to know them in that way. There was always singing… gospel music, Hank Williams, Ricky Skaggs, Elvis, Earl Thomas Conley and so many more… all the songs they loved. And they could sing. My dad with his smooth deep voice and Uncle Dave harmonizing with tenor sounded like pure bluegrass and country to me. They’d ask me to join in and we’d sing til the wee hours of the morning out on that porch. I love those memories.

One day not too long after I’d graduated high school, Uncle Buck came to visit. He was living in Georgia at the time. He was only there for the weekend, but within three days he asked and I decided to pack up and head down to Georgia with him. I was going to see about maybe going to school, find work, and strike out in the world to see some place other than home. He lived in a small one bedroom house just outside of Savannah. He gave me the bedroom and he slept on the couch. We lived there together for about a year before I left to head back home because I’d had my heart broken by a boy. In that year, we talked a lot. We sang a lot. We laughed every day. We became very close and I thought of him as a second dad. I called him dad #2 and he called me daughter #2; he’d had a daughter pass on as a baby earlier in his life. I could talk to him about anything and he always had a way of helping me to see things differently. He also had a way of reminding who I am and where I came from so that I never forgot that. If he wasn’t particularly pleased with something I’d said or done, he’s tell me, “Girl, you better straighten up and fly right.” When I moved home, that bond wasn’t broken as we talked on the phone every week. He was always there for me. Around the time I found out I was pregnant with my daughter, I went back to Georgia to visit him; I hadn’t told anyone yet. Somehow, he knew. He looked at me and said, “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” I’ll never know how he knew, but we talked about it and he put me at ease.

Uncle Dave had his health issues. He drank, he smoked, and he had asthma. It wasn’t a huge surprise when he told us he had cancer. At the time he told us, he said he had about 8 months to live. We were all devastated. I couldn’t fathom losing my second dad. It was also around this time that I decided to move to Florida. I’d originally planned to stop on my way down to visit with him. When I was passing through Georgia though, it was after dark and a terrible rainstorm was blowing. I remember thinking that I just had to get to where I was going and get off the road. So I stopped to call him and let him know that I wasn’t going to stop then, but that I’d come visit him the following weekend after I got settled. I never got the chance. I had a week off before starting my new job, and the first day of my new job I got the call that he was gone. I was shattered. I carried a lot of guilt for a long time about not stopping that night as I drove through. I miss laughing with him. I miss talking to him. To this day, I sometimes think of picking up the phone and calling him and what I’d say. Mostly though, I think about what he would say to me and what advice he would have. I miss that most of all.

When Uncle Dave passed, my family came from West Virginia to attend the memorial and I came up from Florida to be with everyone. We went to his home as his sons sorted through his things. I’ll never forget… as I drove around a curve in the dirt road leading to his front door, a swarm of yellow butterflies passed in front of my car and I began to cry. I just knew he was there with me. When ever I see a yellow butterfly now, I always stop to say, “Hi Uncle Buck”. First you grieve, then you find happiness in the moments you shared and all that you learned. What a lucky girl am I to not have had just one dad, but to have had two.