Uncles are special, it’s true.  But when they’ve married into a family like ours, you know they must be characters as well as some of the “good guys.”  The Pedersens have been known to laugh a lot, to love a lot, and to gather together often and share fun…a lot.  We are that family others admire for our closeness in spite of our numbers and our geographic spread.  With eleven siblings, Mom’s family has populated a community in central Wisconsin and beyond with offspring, and we are proud to say that we know each other—all 39 cousins.  Many of us gather each year for a family reunion, but it seems we are meeting more often now at funerals.
My parents’ generation has reached that point in life where goodbyes outnumber hellos and when we are constantly reminded that every moment counts.  My Uncle Ed, husband to my mom’s youngest sister, Florence, passed away early this morning after a struggle with lung and heart problems.  While we family members acknowledge he smoked most of his life, we still didn’t expect this so soon.  I was with him at a family breakfast in April, and he was kidding with me then as usual.
Ed has been known to tease all his nephews and nieces, and we’d rib him right back.  He used colorful language even before we knew what colorful language was.  I remember playing outside at Grandma and Grandpa’s house during many family picnics, when I could hear his voice from the screened porch letting a “hell” or another expletive fly amid the conversation.  We youngsters would look at one another and giggle.
I remember him as part of the adventurous foursome of Ed & Florence, and Bud & Gladys.  Two of the younger couples of their generation.  They were always out together–riding, golfing, snowmobiling, dancing—having a great time.  We were in awe when they entered the room in their matching leather jackets with fringe.
As I grew out of my awkward teens during the late 70s, I found myself attending many of my cousins’ weddings as a single young lady.  I would join my parents at the receptions, where many of us danced the night away each event.  But before I ever reached the dance floor, as I’d walk into the reception hall, Uncle Ed and Uncle Bud would spot me and offer up their own greeting, by singing (loudly!) “If you knew Susie, like I know Susie…”  It became a recurring theme, to the point I would sometimes try to sneak in another entrance.  But they always found me out, and I’d hear that familiar refrain.   I’d blush a little, give them hugs and promise each a dance.  With all their nieces, they both had plenty of dance partners, besides their wives who also loved to dance.
As the years passed, we moved from weddings to family reunions with a multitude of children of the next generations. While Uncle Ed and Aunt Florence didn’t have children themselves, they have plenty of nieces and nephews, and great—even great, great—nieces and nephews who love them, and each has fond memories to share.
Uncle Ed has always been a favorite one to tease, just as he teased us.  I’ll miss that.  But I fully expect that when my time comes, I’ll enter heaven past the gates, turn left into the reception hall, and there, from across the dance floor, I’ll hear two guys singing, “If you knew Susie, like I know Susie!”