FAMILY STORIES

Uncle Bruce got his eye put out when he was in the Army. He was not wounded in battle or anything glamorous like that. He was riding the back of a truck looking over the cab and a limb hit his eye. He did get a disability pension from the government because of it. Since he had this steady income that did not depend on the weather, he was a good bit better off than most especially during the depression.

He did tip a bottle every once in a while though. He would decide to come visit us on these special occasions he got very humorous (he thought) when he was drunk. He needed an audience and his older sister, my mother, was one who would be nice to him.

He would scare the little children (like me) by taking out his glass eye and throwing it in the dirt. Now this was quite a sight for a small boy who had only gone to town with his family on Saturdays to buy groceries and maybe a movie once in a while. The biggest thrill was stopping by Mr. Farrah’s store and getting a Nu-grape or a box of crackerjacks. The glass eye in the dirt was bad enough, but when he brushed it off and put it back, I almost always went the other way.

That was more Uncle Bruce entertainment than I could stand.