Sad and long? But mostly sad. Sorry.

My uncle Bruce passed away two months ago, so it seems strange to be posting about him now. I also didn’t know him very well. I only ever had but one or two good conversations with him, as he was the quietest and least batshit-crazy of my aunts and uncles.

But I think about him all the time, and today it occurred to me how much I truly admired him.

You would never have known my uncle Bruce was a hero just from talking to him. He did so much for his family and his community – more than even his own family members realized.

When I walked into my uncle’s visitation in March, I was primarily overwhelmed by the number of people there. I was also struck by my observation that Bruce, who somehow managed to be both an ethical and a successful lawyer, was being actively remembered by individuals from all walks of life. After the service, my dad and I were standing by the funeral home doors when we noticed a man who seemed particularly out of place. He was alone, extraordinarily tall, and wore gold-toed boots and a cowboy hat. After running through our extensive lineage of second and third cousins, neither of us could place him. My father introduced himself to the man, who explained that he had gotten into some trouble with the law when he was younger. Bruce represented him for a minimal fee, and he credited my uncle with helping him turn his life around. Many of the men from Bruce’s firm told stories about his genuine fairness and love of the law.

We’re a sailing family, and when it came to working on a boat Bruce was particularly unparalleled. Though he was the oldest child, he was a small man and usually served as the frontboard man on sailing trips. The frontboard job is arguably the most dangerous on the boat, as it involves hanging off the side to fix lines, etc. During rough storms, Bruce would basically risk his life by repeatedly volunteering to climb up into the rigging to tack the boat. It was a job no one else was willing or able to do, and he never complained.

Bruce ran marathons, raced and worked on cars, was a solid hockey player, a good snow and waterskiier. I remember as a kid being so impressed with his ability to take off on one ski from sitting on the dock. He had a kickass 70's mustache and an awesome smile. He was known for his voracious appetite. During his eulogy, one of his coworkers told a story about Bruce demolishing eight roast beef sandwiches from Arby’s. While he was going through chemo. Less than a month before he died.

He was also a best friend to my dad. Though he had almost 15 years on my father, Bruce and my dad were always close. They co owned our boat and spent lots of time working on it and sailing together. Bruce gave my dad legal and practical advice, and they both shared an affinity for justice. Just before he died, Bruce gave my dad a plain manila envelope. My dad opened it, expecting it to be some sentimental letter or a bucket list of things my dad should do during his life. It was indeed a list. A list of things that needed to be fixed on the boat before it could go back in the water this summer. Bruce did the things he loved right up to the very end. He never stopped living.

My dad framed and hung his brother’s hockey jersey in his office. My grandfather asked me to be the frontboard man in the Port Huron-Mackinac race this summer.

I remember my uncle. He was a quiet hero and a great man.

Are there heroes in your family? Look closely. Maybe there's one you've never noticed.

I keep her runnin' back n' forth. Soccer team,

Chicka chicka MLA