Uncle Pete and the Monsters

It’s a full moon tonight. They’ll be here. I have to get ready!

First, I make the crosses. Two pieces of wood, tied together with a strip of rawhide. One end sharpened into a stake so that I can drive them in the ground and they’ll stay there.

Then comes the garlic. I’m not sure what it is about the garlic, but they hate it, can’t stand it. It repels them. I string it together like my grandparents used to string popcorn and cranberries to make homemade Christmas tree trimmings. Yeah, I come from a poor family. Anyhow, I’ll have the garlic strung around both doors and all of the windows. The windows are boarded over, just as an extra precaution.

Then, I make sure that my weapons are ready. The two sawed-off shotguns are loaded and the pistol that Daddy left me in his will is loaded, too. The bayonet that Uncle JR brought back from ’Nam is sharpened and ready to go. The baseball bat with barbed wire wrapped around it is standing in a corner of my living room.

So called “normal people” would think I was crazy if they saw me making my preparations. I’ve seen the looks on neighbor’s faces when I’m making things ready here. Jackie told me that somebody drove by here and took pics of my crosses in the front yard and the garlic on the doors and windows. They put the pics on Instagram and it really embarrassed Joanie and the nephews. I’ve noticed that when Jackie stops by, Jackie Jr. is the only one of my nephews who ever comes with him. I guess his brothers gave up on their crazy old Uncle Pete.

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I heard Dad and Mom talking last night.

“Hey, it’s a full moon tomorrow night,” Mom said. “You gonna go by Pete’s place and make sure that he’s alright?”

Dad sighed.

“I haven’t checked on him the last several full moons and he hasn’t killed anybody or anything.”

“It would be good if you let him know that you care,” Mom said. She was using her guidance counselor voice. She’s used that voice to convince hundreds of high schoolers to stay in school or make an effort to improve their math grades and I knew she’d use it to get Dad to come around to her way of thinking. “He’s all you have left on your side of the family with your parents gone.”

Another sigh from Dad.

“Yeah, you’re right of course,” and, just like that, one of the top trial lawyers in the state waved the white flag. “I’ll pick Jack Junior up at school and take him with me. There’s always been some kind of a bond between them, going back to when Jack was a baby. If the kid is with me, maybe he won’t feel like I’m trying to boss him around.”

Dad is right. I’ve always had a place in my heart for my uncle. I love that crazy guy even if Nikki Grammas wrinkled her nose like I smelled like dirty diapers when I told her he was my dad’s big brother.

And that’s how I got out of school an hour early and, now, I’m riding toward Uncle Pete’s house on the outskirts of town in Dad’s Lincoln Aviator with the AC on and Billy Joel asking some unknown lady not to change the color of her hair on the stereo.

We turn onto Uncle Pete’s street. It’s probably the most normal place I’ve ever seen. Brick ranch style homes that my parents say that everybody lived in during the 1970’s. And, then, we get to my uncle’s place.

It’s a white bungalow with a red metal roof and matching shutters. The front yard looks like that World War II cemetery over in Europe with crosses everywhere. He has garlic strung up on every window and door of the house.

“Look,” Dad is telling me,”I’m going to try to get him to come and stay with us for awhile. Regardless of what you and your brothers think about that, try to make him feel like he’s welcome at our place.”

He lowers his voice like he’s letting me in on a big secret, “It’s only temporary until we can figure out a way to get him into an institution.”

I feel like Judas Isacriot must have felt when he took the thirty silver coins on that sad day long ago. My mind is flooded with memories-Uncle Pete showing me how to throw a football the right way, watching WWE with Uncle Pete, and Uncle Pete reading Dr. Seuss to me.

I try to put those thoughts out of my mind as we pull into the driveway. Pete’s house is the only one with a front porch and a porch swing. Pete is sitting on the swing, drinking a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon. He sees us, finishes the beer, and crushes the can. He tosses the can aside and comes to the driveway to greet us.

“Jackie and Jackie Junior!” he bellows. Dad and I know it would be useless to inform him that neither of us go by “Jackie” these days.

Dad gets out of the car and Uncle Pete gives him a hug and slaps him on the back. They are brothers, but quite a contrast in their appearance. My father is a tall, slender man. Dad’s hair is jet black (he swears that he doesn’t dye it) and slicked back. He is wearing a tailored charcoal suit, starched white shirt, red silk tie, and black Florsheims that a guy can see his reflection in. Pete’s grey hair is sparse on top, a few strands sticking up like weeds in an old lady’s flower bed, but it thickens and hangs down to his shoulders in the back. Pete wears a multicolored Hawaiian shirt, unbuttoned to reveal a big belly and a hairy chest. His denim shorts look like some kid used them for target practice with a BB gun. His is barefoot and his feet are filthy. Apparently, he did all of his yardwork without shoes.

“Long time, no see,” Uncle Pete says.

“Been really busy at the firm, bro, and the kid is busy getting an education,” Dad replies.

“Hey, I understand, you’re an important guy!” Pete is working hard to make it seem like everything is cool, but I can see hurt in his eyes.

Uncle Pete moves over to the passenger side of the vehicle and ruffles my hair like I am a toddler.

“Hey, here’s my boy! What’s goin’ on, bud?”

“Not much, just going to school and stuff.”

“Stuff? Any babes in your life?”

“Nah, girls don’t like me much, Uncle Pete.” I’m only stating the facts.

Pete shakes his head.

“You’re a great kid! The gals must love you, dude!”

I wish I had his confidence. Before I can reply, he turns his attention back to my father.

“Hey, why don’t you guys stay all night? Tonight’s a full moon and I’ll need all the help I can get!”

“You still think that something happens during the full moon?” Dad asks. He’s ridiculing Pete and my uncle’s face and neck turn red. “Things that go bump in the night?”

“Listen, just because you’ve never seen’em, that don’t mean they ain’t out to get you, Jackie!”

Dad sighs.

“Look, Peter, when are you gonna give all this up? Why don’t you come over and stay at my place? Joanie and the kids would love to have you and I would, too. It must take 90% of that check you get each month to pay utilities and get groceries.”

“Look, Granny left me this place in her will. I feel like I need to take care of it. You understand that, don’t ya, bro?”

Another deep sigh and another nod from Dad.

“You remember Fergie’s Barber Shop. He had that picture of that old Confederate soldier standing guard that said “The price of freedom is eternal vigilance.” I reckon I’m kind of like that old soldier or at least I feel like I am.”

“Look, we just stopped by to check on you, Peter,” Dad says. I can tell that he’s working really hard not to sound sad or frustrated.

Dad walks around the car and, for the first time that I can remember, hugs his brother. Uncle Pete hugs him back and they hold onto each other for a minute or so.

Dad lets go and backs up a few steps, looking Pete in the eye.

“Listen here,” Dad says, “if you ever need me for anything and I mean anything, you give me a call. You understand that?”

Pete nods.

“The same goes for me, bro,” Uncle Pete says, his voice sounding soft and almost choked.

“We better get going, son,” Dad says, going back to the other side of the vehicle.

I give Uncle Pete a quick hug and climb back into the car. He smells sweaty. Getting your place ready for the creatures of the night is hard work!

Dad starts the vehicle and we pull away from the house. Pete stands in the driveway, waving. He resembles a sad Muppet in the rearview mirror. I watch him until he’s no longer visible.

“Dad, was he ever, well, you know?” I’m not sure exactly how to phrase the question.

“Normal?” Dad gets it. “I guess as normal as anybody else?”

“He really believes that some kind of monsters are out to get him, doesn’t he? I know it’s a bunch of crap, but I believe he believes.”

“Yeah, he certainly does, Jack.”

“Well, that makes me feel like we’re abandoning him.”

Another deep sigh from my father. I’ve been in courtrooms where he was arguing and he never sighs like that when he’s on the job. Only his family ever sees that sign of vulnerability.

“I look at it a bit differently. Everybody has a monster of one kind or another. And everybody has to face their own monsters in their own way. You, me, Uncle Pete. There was an old church song that said ‘You got to walk that lonesome valley. You got to walk it for yourself. Ain’t nobody else gonna walk it for you. You gotta walk it for yourself.’”

What he says rings true, but it doesn’t make me feel any better at all.

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I watch my brother and nephew leave. I’ve been a loner all of my life, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt lonelier than I do at this moment.

Jackie has never understood and I reckon that he never will. The kid seems like he wants to understand, but he probably never will either.

I guess that I’ll just have to face this thing alone. Like that old sign said, “eternal vigilance”.