Tuesday, April 2, 2024
My Uncle John was 17 and had just gotten his driver’s license when I was born. I know this from my mother telling me the story many, many times. Mom went into labor and with my father out of town on a business trip, John was the only person available to drive my Mom to Underwood Hospital. The strapping 6’5’’ man was whisked into the delivery room alongside my mother. In between contractions my mother realized he was there and yelled, “That’s my BROTHER! Get him out of here!”
Thus, my Uncle John was a part of my life, quite literally, from the moment I was born.
He was a sweet, kind, decent man with a sense of humor specializing in what is now referred to as “Dad jokes.” He could play the piano by ear (passably) but was a wonderful baritone singer, one who could reach the basso profundo notes when the Hale men all gathered and sang, “Old Man River.”
Christmas never started until Uncle Johnny (as I called him then) arrived at our house. He would drive all night from Chicago to get there on Christmas Eve. I would beg to stay up. Then after I had gone to bed, he and my father would sit on the floor drinking Manhattans, trying to put together the tiny little pieces of a Barbie House or an Easy Bake Oven with their big ham hands. (Another revelation my mother shared with me later.)
In the summer, Uncle John would join us on Long Beach Island. There he would hoist me up on his broad athletic shoulders and take me out into the ocean, way past the breakers. It was thrilling to be so far out and that high up! I’m sure I saw Europe once or twice ;). Meanwhile, my mother sat on her beach blanket weeping, sure that her only child might very well drown. But Uncle John never let me down.
As I got older – and “cooler” – so did he :) ! Unc, as I now called him, gave me the first Beatles album released in the U.S. He “turned me on” to the Beach Boys, the Fifth Dimension, Dave Brubeck, and many more. Because of him, I had the most eclectic record collection of all my friends.
We came from a family of folk who died young, but we always had each other. Oh, there were others, of course, but we seemed to have a special bond. Through the years, our lives went in different directions and different locations, but we never lost touch.
So, thanks for everything, Unc. For teaching me to be brave and swim in the deep water. For encouraging me to listen and try new things. For always showing up.
Uncle John died on Easter Sunday. The day found me singing in the Episcopal Church choir. Sitting in the choir stalls, I couldn’t help but think that the Hale Family Choir is now all back together. Prentice (bass), Greta (soprano), Sue (alto), and John (tenor) singing together just as they did at the Presbyterian Church in Woodbury Heights. Surely, a welcome addition to the heavenly choir!
Karen Shields
Call: (856) 582-3800 
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