The Last Time I saw Uncle Albert

When I was a freshman at Millsaps College, my family sent me a message that Uncle Albert was in the Baptist Hospital down the street.

He was dying. Everybody dies sometimes, but it seems sad when death is hastened by some behavior earlier in one's life.

Oral Cancer. Metastasized to his brain.

When he was young, he chewed tobacco several years, but eventually he decided it was bad for his health. "You want to know how I quit? I got a handful of dried beans and chewed them whenever I wanted tobacco."

Although Uncle Albert still looked tall and filled the bed lengthwise, he was shriveled into his rack-of-bones frame. He was never overweight, but he was a big muscular farmer. I said, "Uncle Albert, you used to be a bigger man, didn't you?"

Contemplating the question, he said, "Yes I used to weigh 700, 800, or 900 pounds."

"You used to have some good pears behind your house."

"Go around to the backyard and pick you some of those pears."

We miss him still.