Ben Singer, Nephew
My Uncle Bucky was always one of my favourite relatives.
Not just because he lived in Florida, an exotic jungle paradise to a kid from Winnipeg.
Not just because visits meant side-trips to Orlando theme parks, watching jai-alai or catching mahi-mahi on a deep sea fishing boat.
And not just because I’d get to hang out with my cool, older American cousins, Andrew and David.
One of my first memories is of running into my uncle’s arms on an early trip to Miami as a four-year-old, and being scooped up in the air.
Uncle Bucky had a confident kindness, an exuberant warmth. He was full of jokes, opinions and more bad words than I’d hear until I was a fair bit older. Somehow they never sounded too “bad” coming from him.
He would talk to anyone, charming them with his wit and a knowing smile that seemed to linger forever, just waiting for everyone else to get the joke.
He delighted in food. Especially eating out. I remember one visit where he raved about the bananas foster at one restaurant so much, that it became a kind of in-joke in our family. But he was right. It was delicious!
Joe’s Stone Crab. Wolfie’s Deli. So many of my memories of my uncle revolved around food and the joy of eating it in good company.
On a trip to New Orleans in 2003, the year before Katrina, Uncle Bucky took us to all the gluttonous spots, including Central Grocery for the muffuletta sandwiches. I’d recommend them. I would NOT recommend getting held up at gunpoint like he did outside our B&B.
Uncle Bucky represented an exciting American wing in our small family. I was wowed by his tan and his bright pastel wardrobe. He even made smoking look kind of cool. (I remember him driving a convertible, though that may be apocryphal given the value of A/C in Miami.)
But his Canadian roots never withered. He often waxed about his epic canoe adventures as an Ontario kid who spent summers at wilderness camps.
When I was about 14, Uncle Bucky visited our family cottage in northwest Ontario to join us on a mult-day canoe trip. He braved the mosquitoes, near-encounters with bears and a famously endlesss wrong-turn portage.
I saw the love he had for the Canadian lakes he paddled as a kid. But I also remember his visible joy at returning to civilization and ordering black & white shakes from the small-town A&W.
I will miss my Uncle Bucky very, very much. He was a force of energy, and brought excitement and fun to my life. I always knew he loved us nephews and he was loved back.
Ben Singer Toronto