Thursday, July 25, 2024
Marty was my father's younger brother. He was my beloved Uncle Marty, though when I was in my 20's and had a couple of children of my own, he gently suggested that I could drop the "Uncle" and just call him by his name. He felt we were both adults, truly equals, and he was a little uncomfortable with the title. It felt weird, but eventually I got used to it. Although until our very last chat, I still greeted him on the phone with a hearty "Hello Uncle!"
Marty was my last grown up. The last of a layer of humans of a certain generation who loomed large in my life. There are a couple of others out there who were married to my relatives but have since divorced. There is no ill will there, but we have drifted and don't see one another any more. Marty would not permit drift. He doggedly pursued a relationship with me even and especially during times when my own immediate family life was all consuming and I didn't have the mental energy for much beyond my own husband and kids. I am so very grateful that he persisted!
From the time I was little Marty was the handsome, cheerful and full of fun uncle. He always treated me and spoke to me as an equal, even when I was quite young. As an adult, I found him to be one of the most enjoyable chats I've ever come across. The fact that we were of similar political leanings ( he loved to talk politics!) certainly helped. But even if I had vastly different views I'm sure that he would have conversed with me with courtesy and curiosity. One of his recurring themes in recent decades was that "People just need to TALK to one another! Talking and listening respectfully would do so much to right all that has gone wrong in our society!"
I could go on for quite a while about this man. This good, flawed, loving, interesting man. If you seek me out we can chat about Marty Stromsten for as long as you'd like.
For now, I will close the way he always ended a phone call with me: You take good care.
You take good care Martin Stromsten. Thank you Uncle.
