A View of Laughter

Years ago, my uncle would throw a huge New Year's Eve party - food, music, cards, dancing, party favors, family, and friends.  One particular year, the atmosphere in the house was especially festive and boisterous.  People were dancing, and it seemed like everyone was a little tipsy, even those of us who didn't have a drop of alcohol in our systems.  The long, brightly lit living room adjoining the bar was full of people determined to have fun.


Mrs. Hawkins was one of them - plump, golden auburn hair, gold tooth, glowing smile, she seemed to be lit from within.  She was dancing with Uncle Sam, who was perpetually lit.  His skin was weathered, the color of sun-baked tobacco and permanently speckled with flecks of white paint - a badge of honor from his work as the family handyman.  He looked to weigh no more than 100 pounds, his hands were gnarled and distorted, his body looked like a milk chocolate "C," the result of years hard work, harder drinking, arthritis taking hold of every possible joint.

This night, this New Year's Eve, his body curved and curled, but not from pain or afflicted joints.  He was dancing his heart out, and Mrs. Hawkins kept right up with him.  From his vantage point, my Uncle Richard stood at the bar with an old Bell & Howell home movie camera aimed at the down home Fred and Ginger.  The rest of the revelers cheered them on, and we all kept the records spinning.  My mom could barely see it all standing next to my uncle, her only and very beloved brother, because she was laughing so hard watching a plump, glowing firecracker of a woman and a twisty wisp of a man dance as freely and disjointedly as only elderly people can.

"Mr. Richard," Mrs. Hawkins called out after about 15 minutes of nonstop dancing, "I'm beginning to get tired.  You still filmin' us?  You want us to keep goin'?"  Uncle Sam hadn't broken stride, but nodded in agreement.

"I've only got a little more film to go, and y'all look so good out there," he replied in a sweet, earnest tone, and with a smile as bright as the light on his home movie camera. "Think you can you hang in there a few more minutes?"

With a brighter smile, our down home Fred and Ginger kept dancing, and the party kept going.  My mom, between fits of laughter, couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"Richard, why are spending so much time filming them?" she asked.  "They've been dancing for over 20 minutes. You're wasting a lot of film on this."

With a devilish gleam in his eye and a big smile, he replied, "You think they'd get mad at me if I told them there wasn't any film in this camera?"  Then his laugh mingled with my mom's laugh, and their laugh mingled with the music, which mingled with the cheers of the party.

I think about him, that laugh, that light, that mischief, that love today.  Happy birthday, Uncle Richard.  I hope you're dancing and making everyone around you dance.

Uncle Richard would've been 78 years old today.

Wish you were here....