Loss of a Magical Man.

Here is the note that Uncle Richard wrote to Robert and me after our visit in October. I just received it this weekend. He gave it to Mama and Daddy to give to me. Like so much of his writing, it was on the back of a Subway napkin, and will be treasure by me more than gold! He wasn't able to write for a while because of the tumor on his middle finger, but he was able to write this for us. I miss you Uncle Richard.Here is what I wrote for Uncle Richard's celebration of life. I truly felt him with me as I read it. I have so many more stories. Maybe I will write a book about him some day.

The Story of Uncle HoHo

For as long as I can remember, Uncle Richard has been magical. My earliest memories are of him showing me baby chicks hatching, and holding an egg up to my ear and hearing a faint little “peep, peep” coming from inside. New life was always springing up on the farm. He would say, “If you come by tomorrow, that mama hen is going to have babies, but they are going to be ducklings!” The next day, plain ole Mama hen had hatched baby Cayuga ducks. Magical! I couldn’t wait to see what kind of cute furry baby would show up next! I also loved how all of his animals got along. The dogs didn’t fight the chickens, or the deer, or the turkeys, or cows or sheep. It was how I imagine Heaven is: peaceful coexistence. He could get cows to walk down the side of the road in a single file line just by walking beside them. If one slowed down, he would gentle say, “Freckles, pick up the pace. You are slowing everyone down and nobody likes a slow poke. Panda face and Banny aren’t going to walk behind you anymore.” Freckles would pick up the pace. Magical! He could raise any type of bird or animal, nurse them back to health, and send them back into nature. He was never attacked by Weed-Eater, the demon possessed billy goat that chased everyone at least once and Mama several times. The geese didn’t hiss at him. None of them ever acted threatening to him or scared of him. He was always so patient when we called him several times each spring. I know when the first spring winds started to blow, that he expected it. Every baby dove and sparrow that fell from the poorly made nests became Uncle Richard’s next baby to raise. He would put them in a sock, under a heat lamp and lay them in a box beside him on the floor so he could feed them every hour, or he would put them in his shirt pocket to carry around the farm. He always seemed to have a baby something or other in his shirt pocket. He would say, “Guess what I have in my pocket?? If you guess, I will name it after you.” He raised the babies and let them go. He wanted them to be wild and free. Some would come back to visit when he was in the yard, like baby blue jay after he was grown and flying with the big blue jays or Beauty, the doe that stayed around the farm for years. They came back because he is magical.

I would walk along the river with Uncle Richard, Mamaw, Beauty the deer, and any number of turkeys, doves and dogs. We hunted for rocks, picking them up and discussing the beauty of each one. Several of them made it back to the house and were placed on the shelves in the kitchen. You see, like Mamaw, Uncle Richard saw the beauty and uniqueness in each rock, just as he saw the beauty, uniqueness and talent in each of us Grandchildren. He accepted us where we were, just as we were, and encouraged our talents always. He saw talent, gifts and worth in each of us, even when we couldn’t see it in ourselves. Children flocked to him, and he loved each of us for our uniqueness and despite our flaws. After leaving each visit, you could only feel special, talented, and uniquely LOVED. He is so much like Jesus in this way.

Long after Mamaw Outlaw forgot the words to “Happy Birthday,” she remembered the words to “Tennessee Waltz” so she and Uncle Richard would call me on my birthday to sing. He would start by snapping his fingers and saying “a one, and a two and GO, I was dancin’ with my darlin’ …” Then he would say “Bring it home Mama!” and she sang louder “to the Tennessee Waltz!” It was magical.

Uncle Richard and Nannie Smith had a special friendship too. When Nannie was getting close to death, Uncle Richard came to visit and sang songs to her that he had just written. The songs were “Mellow Out” and “Little Dove.” She tapped her foot and smiled weakly. She loved him so. He had “escorted” her safely to Florida and back, been there after Grandad died, and made her laugh through her tears. When they were together, they were like prank pulling children. It was so special that she would be his first live audience for songs that he would one day record and sing at “The Blue Bird Café.” I can only imagine their reunion in Heaven: tears, hugs, and lots of magical laughter.

When Nicole was about 3 years old, we all came home from Florida for Christmas. As we drove to Mama and Daddy’s house, we saw Uncle Richard walking the cows along the side of the road in a single file line. Nicole’s big brown eyes got as big a saucers, her mouth fell open and she gasped and whispered, “IT’S HO HO.” She saw the magic too! She thought he was Santa. Her Mom explained that he was Uncle Richard, but she could call him Uncle Ho Ho, which he loved.

Uncle Richard, I miss you. Goodbye. I remember. ‘Til we meet again, under the biggest, prettiest Magnolia tree in Heaven. Wait for me there. I will be there shortly, for our time on Earth is but a blink of an eye.

Love,

Shannon Outlaw-Kimsey

7-11-2011