Goodbye, Uncle Harold

This morning my phone rang before I was leaving for work. That's six-something. My phone never rings that early. It was my mom. She was calling to tell me that my Uncle Harold died during the night. Actually he was her uncle, my great uncle. Uncle Harold was 97. Few people in my life hold such a special place in my heart as Harold. 97 years! What a great life! To the right is a very old photo that Harold gave to me.

Harold was simply one of the nicest men I have ever known. Likewise, his wife Genevieve was one of the kindest women I have ever known. Harold and Genevieve Allen were an inspiration as a couple and two of the most remarkable, lovely folks you could have ever met. Few people in my life have given me the kind of special memories that Uncle Harold and Aunt Genevieve have.

From left to right:
Uncle Harold; Aunt Genevieve; my mom, Effie; my brother, Mark; me (age 11)
Oregon in 1980

My great-grandparents, Effie Mary Neeley and Winfield Scott Murray, had many children. Two of them were Herbert and Genevieve. Herbert was my mom's father and his sister, Genevieve, went on to marry Harold Allen. Genevieve died in 1999. Thankfully, Harold was not one of the statistics that gave up after the loss of a spouse. He outlived Genevieve by 7 years. He was determined to live to 100 actually. He just very recently had a hip surgery and never made it out of the hospital due to some infections.

Harold, Genevieve, and me (age 20)

Harold and Genevieve lived in Oregon my whole life (when they weren't traveling). I had many opportunties to visit them there. As a kid I visited them with my Aunt Linda, my grandmother Ann Marie, by myself, and several times with my mom. After high school I made a trip with my buddy Matt. They were always the definition of hospitality, the ultimate tour guides. Two more generous people would be hard to find. I can't even count the number of times Harold would argue over the dinner bill with my father. There was always laughter around them. Harold loved to crack senior citizen jokes. Both of them were very witty. They were both strong New Deal Democrats and staunch FDR supporters. Oh how I loved the talk of history when in their home. Wonderful folk, the kind that made America strong.

From left to right:
Harold; my sister, Lori Ann; Genevieve; my brother, Mark; and, me (age 22)
This is at the Columbia Gorge Hotel on the Hood River.
We're on the Oregon side, but across the water that is Washington.

Another thing I'll never forget about Genevieve is her cooking. She would grow fruit and vegetables and then can things. She made the best bread-and-butter-pickles I've ever had in my life. It pains me to think that I'll never experience those again. I could eat a jar a day when I stayed with them. I remember picking blackberries near their property and eating her homemade jams on warm biscuits. Also, she made the most impeccable zucchini bread. I vividly remember how much Genevieve enjoyed the fact that I genuinely loved her food. Moreover, I remember how much joy Harold got from having a young kid around. They never had children, but they did have a beautiful Sheltie dog for many many years.

Harold and Genevieve from the same visit in 1991.

The thing I admire most about Harold is how well he loved his wife. He really got that right. 97 is nothing to be sad about, but Harold will be missed.