8. Postcard from UB

A funny postcard in the mail this morning from Uncle Brian, Jack’s older, and only living, brother. My last vertical uncle. Uncle Bo, the youngest of the three McAllister brothers, went horizontal and wouldn’t get up a few years ago. This is the first time we’ve heard from Uncle Brian since his surprise visit in April. Flew in from Dublin and stayed the guts of a week. Jack ribbed him about his weight the whole time, teased him about being ‘fat as a fool’, advised him to ‘cut down on all those greasy fry-ups and start doing a bit of exercise’. Is this the way siblings speak to each other? If I said anything like that to Judy, she’d punch my lights out. I wouldn’t call UB fat, not exactly. A more accurate word to describe him would be one I recently came across in a book about obscure words I found in the library.

Dropsical. If UB grew a white beard he’d look like old Saint Nick.

The postcard is a cartoon of a disgruntled looking man with his head between a pair of spread-eagled legs in fishnet stockings and black stiletto’s. The caption below reads: What? Smells like kippers, you say? What do you expect for the cheap price you pay, caviar? It cracked me up.

UB’s got the strangest sense of humor. Either that, or he thinks Jack and I do. His almost illegible scrawl on the reverse speaks of how he’s looking forward to our imminent return. Can’t believe that Jack’s telling everyone that we’re emigrating. This is more serious than I thought.