My Uncle HF died this weekend. That’s what everyone called him “Uncle HF”. I was never close with HF and probably only spent a few hours ever 5 years with him, but I always liked him. He was smiling and smug in a “James Rockford” way – endearingly sarcastic. His passing leaves just one member of my dad’s family left alive.
Cancer has proven the bane of that side of my familial tree. The big C. Genes gone awry. Breast, lung, and colon – all the usual suspects, and the sole surviving sister has just been diagnosed with skin cancer after winning a bout with breast. I’d like to imagine that my lifestyle is healthy enough to indemnify me from the disease or at least hold it off till science gets a better handle on the cure. I try and stick to the classic six-point plan:
- Don’t smoke
- Be fanatical about your diet
- Exercise regular and stay lean (no, really lean)
- Avoid stress, keep a positive mental attitude, and keep strong bonds with friends and family
- Always wear sunblock
- Get regular heath screenings
But who knows. Life is made of luck more than we like to admit. I’d like to imagine that Uncle HF understood this fact and that it engendered his smug world view, and stoked much of his infectious laughter. That’s the story I’ll keep with his name.