2001-06-18 - 11:29 p.m.

Uncle Frank, Part 3

During one of his visits Uncle Frank took me with him when he went to visit some friends of his in the old part of Frown Town. When I say the "old" part of town, I mean OLD. Many of the houses in this district date from the early 1700s. That part of town is known for its classy brownstones, and I used to live there myself in the 80s.

It was quite a revelation to be let inside these homes. On the outside they looked rather plain, but inside they were sumptuous. Most surprisingly many of them had amazing back yards with lush gardens and fountains. You'd never guess that from how these buildings looked from the street.

He introduced me to a friend of his, a woman about his age. She looked me right in the eye and said: "Darling, I'm dying of curiosity - WHAT is going on with your father?"

She pointed out that lots of people knew about the fact that Dad wasn't living at home any more. Her direct questions didn't offend me at all, in fact it was something of a relief to talk about it with someone. Even though the woman was terribly gossipy I liked her immediately. I tend to prefer direct, no-bullshit people.

Another time Uncle Frank took me up to a summer camp in the Southern Adirondacks where I met some more friends of his. One of them was the now-elderly son of a big department-store tycoon who happened to be one of my father's biggest brokerage customers. I also understood pretty quickly that this guy was gay too - a lot of Uncle Frank's friends were. There seemed to be a pretty extensive "old boy" network of them.

The last time Uncle Frank and I went out it was after Lilac was long gone. The thing I remember most clearly is that after the dinner the restaurant called in a panic - Uncle Frank had paid for the meal with a credit card and it had been so worn that they couldn't read the number on the slip. So I wound up paying for that dinner myself.

Uncle Frank talked a lot about his health - it seems to be an obsession with old people. He mentioned that he had prostate cancer. Still, he looked fine to me - I hoped to look as good as he did when I was that age. Although I wouldn't be wearing bow ties. No way.

He also mentioned, on a couple of occasions, that he was leaving me money in his will. I thanked him for thinking of me that way, but I really didn't take what he said seriously. I never count on getting money from wills and suchlike. Besides, he really didn't have to buy my affection.

A while after that I remember that Uncle Frank had called and left a message on my answering machine, just to see how I was. I meant to call him back but I had a hard time locating his phone number and then I just plain forgot.

And the next thing I heard, he was dead. I guess he hadn't been exaggerating about the prostate cancer.

I heard about it from my cousins, and they had all sorts of stories to tell about him. They made no secret of the fact that they didn't like him. They thought he was a thief and a freeloader. Apparently there was some family jewelry that had gone missing, and it looked a lot like Uncle Frank had taken it.

Maybe he took it, and maybe he didn't. But the fact of the matter was I liked Uncle Frank, and he hadn't done anything bad to me. Besides, I didn't like my cousins that much, and I still don't.

Of course, he didn't leave anything to me in his will. I don't think he even mentioned me. But that was okay, I didn't expect anything anyway.

As it turned out, there was no money to distribute - he'd spent it all on trips and cruises and whatnot. Good for him!

In fact, this was the source of some embarrassment. Uncle Frank had promised generous bequests to two churches - one in San Francisco, another in New York. These churches had planned memorial services for Uncle Frank - which they subsequently cancelled when they found out they were getting no money.

At the start of this, which has taken me days and days to actually write, I said that this was an experiment. I was thinking about my Uncle Frank, but I really couldn't come to any conclusions about him. So I just decided to just spill all the facts I knew about him, and let you folks make up your own minds.

There is one last thing, though.

Uncle Frank had arranged to be buried in the family plot in a cemetery downstate. Members of my family back to my great-great grandfather are buried there. Frank managed to get his name and dates etched on the large stone in the center of the plot.

A couple years ago, my aunt (his sister) and one of the cousins came in to town and visited Dad at Hotel Happy. It wasn't just a social visit - they needed his signature on some legal document. They wanted to move Uncle Frank's body and have his name removed from the large monument and since Dad was the deed holder, they needed his permission.

I thought this was dirty pool - Dad was not really competent to sign anything. They just crept into town without telling me, and got him to sign it, and stole out again. The only way I found out about it was Dad told me about it later, even though he really didn’t understand what he was signing.

I really don't know why my aunt felt she had to do that. Maybe she felt that Uncle Frank really didn't deserve that place of honor. It would be just like my family to value things over actual people.

It's true - stupid family quarrels can be carried beyond the grave.