Blue Skies and Tailwinds, Uncle Red
His real name was Hollie.
Hollie Elivian Ewing Jr. was named after his dad, who was my great-grandfather. It took me a few decades to realize “Red” was my great uncle's nickname. I never knew him by anything other than that until I saw a family tree.
Early this year, I planned on seeing Uncle Red and a mess of other Ewings and Terrys at his 90th birthday party. The ‘Rona postponed that soiree from April until summer. By the time we got to Memorial Day, it was clear the party wouldn't happen until 2021.
Now I guess it’ll be a memorial service. Red passed away two days ago.
Happy Hour
Uncle Red was a charismatic figure. A larger-than-life guy who seemed to be omnipresent in my life even though I only saw him occasionally at family gatherings. While I was building forts in the woods, building model planes, and drinking beer out in the cornfields, he was off building log cabins in Vermont, flying airplanes around the country, and ranching in North Dakota.
Red was the second youngest of nine kids born to my great-grandparents. His song-and-dance act opened on April 3, 1930, in Battle Ground, Indiana.
Battle Ground is the epicenter of my family. It's a no-stoplight town perched on the north bank of the Wabash River five miles upstream from Lafayette. You'll never end up there accidentally. It would take more than a couple wrong turns to land you in downtown Battle Ground.
Grandma Terry, my dad’s mom, was the oldest child. She was 14 years old when Red was born. By the time Red started kindergarten, Grandma was married and having kids of her own.
There was only a seven-year gap between my dad and Uncle Red. They were more like brothers or cousins than uncle and nephew. I grew up hearing stories from my dad and his brothers (Uncle George and Uncle Dick) about shenanigans on the farm with Red.
My dad loved talking about those days right up until the time he passed away in 2016. Whenever Dad talked about Red, there was always a smile. Or, more likely, it was a smirk.
The funny thing is that I can’t recall a single one of those stories now. And that’s OK. They weren’t mine to tell anyway. But I have a recent Uncle Red story of my own.
It was a tiny moment, but one that sticks with me.
I called Red on his birthday last year. First, we had to get past those initial speed bumps you often run into when you talk to an older person on the phone. It's what happens when you're at the intersection of surprise, confusion, and hearing loss.
Me: Hey, Red. It’s Don’s boy, John.
Red: Don?
Me: No, Red. It’s John. JOHN … JOHN TERRY.
Red: DONNY?
Me: It’s JOHN. Don’s youngest son.
Red: JOHNNY! Well hell, it's good to hear from you. I knew it couldn’t be Donny. We lost him a couple years ago.
Johnny: Yeah, we did. I wanted to call and wish you happy birthday, Uncle Red. How are ya?
Red: Well, it’s almost 4:00.
Johnny: Yeah, it is almost 4:00 in North Dakota. What does that mean? Is something happening at 4:00?
Red: That’s when I have a goddamn martini!
We went on to talk about martinis, barbecue, and how much time Red spent working jigsaw puzzles. Said he borrowed stacks of them from “the center.”
That was my last conversation with Red. I was going to call him this year on his birthday, but I didn’t. I have no idea what I was doing that seemed more important.
There's no way it was.
I meant to call a few weeks later. But I didn’t. Then Red got sick and went into the hospital.
His illness concerned me a little. After all, he was 90 years old. But I don’t think it even crossed my mind that he might die. I saw things unfolding like this:
Red gets better.
His daughters reschedule the birthday party and bring him to Indiana for what ends up being 91st celebration instead of 90th.
I see him at the party in Indiana, then schedule my trip to North Dakota. The one I’ve been putting off. The trip when I put a microphone in front of Red to capture a bunch of his stories. Some of the stories I never recorded from my dad because he died unexpectedly.
Best intentions. Procrastination.
Dammit.
After I heard from Uncle Dick on Friday, I logged onto Facebook to look at Red’s page. The picture on the right is one of the first ones I saw.
Red sure looks happy to have that martini in his hand.
My second cousin Becky had this to say in a post:
It is with the heaviest of hearts that I tell you our dad, Red Ewing, has passed from this life to the next. His larger-than-life adventurous spirit will live on in the countless lives he touched with his love of flying, singing, hunting, riding, ranching, and so, so much more. What a joyous celebration for him to be reunited with his parents and all 8 siblings!
I copped a few pictures from Becky’s post to include here.
Fly on, Uncle Red! Hopefully you’re back in the left seat.
