Tom grew up in Milwaukee, bartended in Wauwatosa in the '70s and moved here in 1984.
Commentary, observations and musings about the outdoors, life in general and maybe Tosa politics and personalities will be the order of the day. He savors a lively debate as much as terrific cooking.
I have long been a supporter of the notion of having a favorite uncle.
My favorite uncle is my Uncle Dick. My late pop's little brother. Uncle Dick and his family lived at the end of the block where I grew up in Milwaukee and he was an adult to be admired. Working at Ma Bell and an accomplished semi-professional photographer Dick raised a humongous family of seven children on one income and never missed a beat.
And he always had an opinion on something or the other.
Uncle Dick was abruptly taken from the Gaertner Clan when I was a young adult. I don't want you to get the impression I am superstitious or anything but my daughter was born shortly thereafter and I have long felt that this was the way things seek equilibrium. Birth replaces death. Things have a tendency to even-out as nature seeks a balance. There's maybe even a chance that when it's my turn someday I'll be someone's favorite uncle. I digress.
My lovely wife has who I believe to be a favorite uncle.
Uncle John. The son of the the fella that was a member of Les Terribles that I blogged about.
Uncle John is hardly a terror. He's retired from the Lutheran ministry. Baptisms, confirmations, holy communion, funerals, counselor and advisor to souls - that sounds more like good works. Not the sort of individual to strike terror in the heart of the enemy.
And even though we are not blood relation - over the decades I've grown close to Uncle John. He's been as quick with a joke or prank as he is with a good sermon. And speaking of souls - as accepting of differences more than many with whom I have become acquainted. He's the sort of uncle that should be inducted into the Favorite Uncle Hall of Fame.
Following Sunday service Uncle John has been known to corral the entire extended family at the parsonage and instruct a son-in-law to assemble cocktails and put out the good bottles of wine while the turkey is carved.
My kind of uncle.