Living testament to the healing powers of gin & tonic

My Uncle Bill is turning 98 today! He was born in 1910. William Taft was president of the United States. We’ve had 17 presidents since then. The US population then was 92 million. Now, it exceeds 281 million. What you could buy for a buck then would set you back an Andrew Jackson today. Automobiles were still replacing horses as the primary means of transportation. As cars became popular, automobile dealers came up with the “installment plan” as a way to make cars affordable for more people. (Cash incentives, dealer rebates and zero percent financing came later.)

Uncle Bill was my mom’s oldest sister’s second husband. They and my parents used to tell some of the best stories about the fun times they had together as couples – tailgating at Penn State games, golfing, card parties, summer trips to the beach. Among his careers, he and my aunt owned and operated a beauty salon in Lemoyne, PA.

Aunt Ellie died in the early ’90s. Uncle Bill has been living the single life ever since. He currently resides in an assisted living senior apartment, by himself, not far from only son, and he does quite well. He sees and hears well, and doesn’t seem any more confused than I feel half the time. He gets jokes. He follows sports. He loves music and misses singing. Oh, he had a lovely voice back in the day. He cooks. He has made my family dinner – Tuna Helper and peas. He even drove himself around town on local jaunts until recently, when the Pennsylvania DMV revoked his license. He says he has no idea why; they can’t do that just on account of age. This has put a real cramp in his style, as he is not used to being dependent upon others to get to the grocery store, the YMCA, or the doctor’s office. But otherwise, he’s in darn good shape.

Uncle Bill loves his gin. He doesn’t drink too much; he just likes a gin & tonic now and again. He was a martini man back in the day, but admits now that they are just a bit too much for him nowadays. For Christmas last year, I gave him a bottle of Bombay Sapphire and a six-pack of Schweppes tonic. He was overjoyed!

Before we moved to Pennsylvania last year (November ‘06 – May’07), I rarely saw Uncle Bill. However, while in PA I visited him nearly every Monday morning. I took the toddler and stayed for about an hour. He always left out a dish of peppermint candies, and the kiddo would eat ‘em for breakfast. Uncle Bill was always up and dressed, including cologne, and eagerly welcomed our visits. These visits were a highlight for us both. Really, for all three of us.

When we moved back to Maryland, I was excited to return (long story for another time). It was the right decision and we slid right back into our old lives without skipping a beat. But the one thing that has nagged me was leaving Uncle Bill. I felt badly that I jumped into his life, and then all of a sudden, jumped back out again. Like, I’m here! PSYCH! Now I’m not! He misses me, too. He calls to chat and tells me about it, and I can hear in his voice the genuine dismay he feels at my absence.

He’s not going to have many more birthdays, this dear old uncle of mine. Can probably count ‘em on one hand. How many folks have you had the privilege of wishing a Happy 98th Birthday? Again, I bet you have way more fingers than you need. Well tonight, I plan on taking that one hand and instead of counting, I will insert a glass, filled with ice cubes and gin and tonic and a squeeze of lime, and raise it high in honor of this wonderful old man. Though I would much rather be toasting with him than simply to him.

I have been looking all over and can’t find a photo to post. I can tell you that he has a distinguished air and vaguely reminds me of Victor Borge or maybe even an older version of Vincent Price. Only not creepy.

Updated April 3: I found a photo of Uncle Bill! – Taken last year, when he was a mere 97 years old. We invited him to our place for dinner. He kept up with me drink for drink. The man’s a machine, I tell ya!