Tales From The Lebowskis - In Loving Memory of Uncle Jim

Considering I've been on a one-update-per-month-ish schedule, some may find it shocking that I'm posting a new entry literally less than 24 hours after the last one. This morning I received some very sad news: my granduncle James Lebowski passed away late last night after a long full life and a rough battle with leukemia at the end of it. Uncle Jim, as he is known, was the older brother of my grandfather, Dave "Jaja" Lebowski, and his best friend throughout his life. Known to all of us in the family as a kind and gentle man with hardly a rough word to say about anyone, Uncle Jim was loved by all and renowned for his lightning fast eating abilities. It was said that if you looked closely enough you could see the sparks flying from his knife and fork.

I think that paragraph sets the tone I want to have for this entry. I want to take a few minutes to remember some of my favorite Uncle Jim memories and share them with you all. It may be odd that I'm writing this so quickly after his passing and that the tone I'll use is so lighthearted, but it's done out of love and so I can start processing the loss and, sincerely, I think he'd like it. So with that, let's take a moment and remember some fine memories of a terrific man.

A recurring theme with Uncle Jim was his love of food. It could be said that this runs in the family, but in a field of gifted amateurs, Jim was a professional. As I said before, he could eat with unbelievable speed, usually finishing his meals before others were even half done. Although he wasn't one to brag, I believe he took pride in this. I distinctly remember being at breakfast one morning back when I was probably 15 or so with Uncle Jim, my father, Hulka, Jaja, and other various men of my family and being particularly hungry that day. I ate my meal far more quickly than usual and when I looked up, Uncle Jim still had a few bites left to go. Genuinely surprised, I exclaimed, "Whoa! Uncle Jim, you're not done yet?" I immediately regretted it. He looked completely crestfallen, and spent the rest of the meal far more quiet than usual. The next week, the natural order was restored though, and Uncle Jim reclaimed his speed-eating crown.

As with any individual, Uncle Jim had particular favorites in the world of food. Once asked what his favorite food was, he contemplated deeply for a few seconds, brow furrowed, and then finally replied, "... you know, I think I'd have to say gravy." Uncle Jim LOVED gravy. His favorite food wasn't even a food, but a condiment. He would often eat Hungry-Man Salisbury Steak meals and would frequently lament that the amount of gravy provided was insufficient. Hulka, knowing this, decided to have some fun with Uncle Jim one day. He launched into a description of an ad he'd seen for new, larger Hungry-Man dinners with the tray extended to include an entire sidecar of gravy. Uncle Jim's eyes lit up like a the 4th of July. He demanded any and all information Hulka could provide on this new development in the world of frozen foods. Hulka was vague, but descriptive. He couldn't remember where he'd seen the ad, but he said the picture of the meal showed the special gravy sidecar clearly. He wasn't certain, but he thought they were rolling it out to test markets in certain cities. Jim could hardly contain his excitement. He implored his daughter, Holly, to keep her eyes peeled at the Stop & Shop she worked at for any sign of the coveted sidecar.

Of course, this was complete BS. There is no sidecar of gravy. You know this, and so do I. Hulka knew it when he said it. But the story filled Jim with such zest for life that none of us have ever been able to break the news to him that it was false. Hulka would periodically check in on the topic, claiming friends from cities far and wide told him how it just came to their town and how great it was. I hear they adored it in St. Louis. And so, Uncle Jim lived in a state of perpetual excitement for the day that Hungry-Man would finally release the gravy sidecar, a veritable Holy Grail of frozen dinner, in his local grocer's freezer.

His love of food was not limited to just love of gravy, though. He just loved eating. I recall being at a wake a few years ago that Uncle Jim also attended. Many members of my family were sitting in the back of the room, quietly talking amongst ourselves when somebody approached who happened to be holding a bag of some sorts. Uncle Jim, apparently hungrier than anyone realized, couldn't contain himself and asked, hopefully, eagerly, sincerely, eyes big like a child's on Christmas, "What's in the bag? Sandwiches?" No context clues pointed him towards this desired conclusion. The bag merely represented possibility: anything could be inside. And what Uncle Jim hoped more than anything else, hoped beyond the capacity for reasonable consideration of the possibility, was that the bag was full of sandwiches. For the wake.

One other memory of Uncle Jim I'll relate today is a time I was out on a boat with Hulka, Jaja, and Uncle Jim. I was probably 18, 19 or so. We were cruising around, enjoying a bright, sunny day. Everyone was having a great time, including the people in the other boats we'd pass by. One boat I noticed had a family that included a daughter who appeared reasonably close to my age. And she was cute. We traveled near this other boat for a while, and I became increasingly distracted, repeatedly glancing over at the other boat. She was sitting on the side of the boat, facing away from me, wearing a bikini. Nothing skimpy, just a normal, black two-piece bathing suit. And, pardon my crassness and objectification, she had a very nice ass. What? She did! I wasn't leering or anything, but there was no way I wasn't noticing. Unfortunately for me, I wasn't the only one who noticed. Or the only one who noticed that I noticed. Uncle Jim, seeing what was going on, couldn't resist speaking up.

"Oh ho, look at Remus, watching that dupa over there!" Dupa, for those who don't know, is Polish for "rear end". If only those of us on our boat had heard, I would've shrugged it off, laughed. But Uncle Jim said it loudly. Loud enough that the passengers on the other boat heard him, turned, and looked at me. I turned bright red, she moved down from the edge of the boat to a seat inside, and her father gave me a disgusted look. Thanks a lot, Uncle Jim. I don't think he even realized, he was already back engaged in conversation with Jaja by the time I could turn to look at him.

So those are some of my favorite Uncle Jim memories. I'll always remember him fondly, with love, as a good sport, a kind man, and an honest person. I don't think I ever once observed him acting with malice or duplicity. I make no secret of the fact that I have no idea what happens after we leave this world, and I prefer not to guess, but whatever happens, I hope that somehow, someway, Uncle Jim's in a place where he finally has his sidecar of gravy and he's at peace knowing he left loved by his family and friends. Goodbye, Uncle Jim. I'll miss you.