#9 Uncle Dale

I never did care much for my name. It was different from other girls growing up. I didn’t hate it, I just didn’t care for it. Sometimes I would even meet a man with my name. This was somewhat horrifying for a little girl. People seemed to struggle with its pronunciation. There was a time that I spent energy and patience trying to teach people that it was pronounced like Less-lee, not Lezlie. When my mother was really upset with me as a child, she would hiss the S. The length of the hissed S usually correlated to how much trouble I was in. I was a teenager when she explained that she chose my name after seeing Elizabeth Taylor play Leslie in the movie The Giant, opposite Rock Hudson. That made me feel better about my name…. for a while anyway.

Years ago, my then significant other, brought me to meet his Aunt and Uncle in his hometown. We sat in their comfortable living room and chatted. Little did I know how much that first introduction would mean to me later. I met a charming woman with a ready smile. She was cheerful and talkative as she tried to get a handle on me and what I might mean to her youngest nephew. Uncle Dale laughed, smiled, and with one arm clapped me on the back as we departed. That was the first of many one-armed shoulder squeezes. Looking back I think they saw our future more clearly than we did. Auntie got my name right. Uncle Dale’s pronunciation was somewhere between the S and the Z, and for once, that was fine by me.

Over the next 15 years, I loved these people like my own. On Sundays, we sat on opposite sides of the church, but always in the back. I learned to listen for Uncle Dale’s beautiful voice. When the service was over he would often say “How’s Leslie today?” It was a greeting he used with many but it made me feel special. I loved to listen to his cattle stories and tips. He had his back broken by a raging bull and recovered at home, not in hospital. He was a man of great strength with big capable hands and a deep laugh that made his eyes twinkle. He was a man of service, whether it was pouring coffee at church or military service or helping a neighbor. He was humble and kind.

 Most of my cattle handling skills (if you can call them that!) came from working in the barn with my husband. Herding, bringing them in, sorting, vaccinating, tubing, pouring, letting them out, and the fine art of shushing. Calving each year is a minefield full of learning and marriage building -opportunities. After 7 years of watching and assisting my husband, I delivered my first calf solo. I enjoyed telling that story and seeing the smile of pride on Uncle Dale’s face.

 My husband rarely leaves the farm during calving season, but sometimes it is inevitable. One day I found myself in charge of the calving kingdom. I enjoy my brief times at the helm of the operation. I had a lady in labor and she needed help. I knew her situation was above my paygrade so I called Uncle Dale. His cell didn’t answer. I tried the house, I spoke to Auntie who said he was outside. A few minutes later he called back. He was busy but he would run out and take a look. He was like that, he would drop everything to help someone if he could. Within minutes he burst through the door. Within another few minutes we pulled a big healthy calf. I put the newborn in a pen and went to tend the mom. After I inserted the boluses we let her out of the chute and in with her baby. I thanked him for his help, he deflected my thanks. That’s how he was, he turned it around. He looked down at me and touched the smear of blood on my face and said “Good job kid”. Three words, 3 kind words. Three words I’ll not forget.

The next time I saw Auntie she said to me “I wish my name was Leslie.” Puzzled, I asked why and she responded “Well you called and he dropped everything, hollering over his shoulder that “Leslie needs me”. She smiled playfully at me when she said this. I grinned. Maybe my name isn’t so bad after all.

 We buried Uncle Dale today, and with him we buried some of ourselves too.

He leaves behind more than he was ever given. His legacy of love and faith in God is what I’m clinging to. It gives me comfort. I know I will see him again in Heaven. And when I do, I will tell him about the year I named all the calves in my nursery with D names.

RIP Uncle Dale.

February 12, 2021