My uncle Ralph passed away this morning. He's the first of my Dad's siblings that I have known well to die. (My uncle Val passed away when I was very young.) So . . . with my current philosophies and lifestyle, I choose to celebrate his life and the memories I have of him, but I'd be a lying son of a gun if I didn't admit that I am rather sad at this moment, More on that later. I don't want this blog to be about me, but rather about Uncle Ralph and what a good guy he was.
Uncle Ralph lived in Tuscon, AZ. I'm pretty sure that his family was the most distant of all the Prices. Still, he seemed to make it up to Carey, ID every Memorial Day to visit the family and Grandpa's grave almost every year. When I was five years old, Dad, Julia, Grandma, Grandpa Elmo and I drove in Grandpa's silver Toyota van down to Arizona to go to Lisa (Ralph's daughter) and Tommy's wedding. I was little, but I remember Uncle Ralph setting up a pinata for all the kids. I remember his house fairly well, and especially the back yard. (because it scared me for some reason)
Some years, after the usual Memorial Day trek though Carey and Pecaboo, all the cousins would end up in Burley at Uncle David's house. Only one person could water ski at a time, but five or six people could be on the water weinie at any given moment. It was the goal of the given Uncle driving the boat towing the big yellow tube to make enough twists and turn, big waves, and speed to violently dump all of the riders into the cold Snake River water. No one, and I repeat no one, knew how to violently dump poor Price kids in the river like Uncle Ralph. There were cousins who would refuse to ride when Uncle Ralph got behind the wheel. :)
It's too bad I didn't get down to see him this last year when I was half living in Phoenix. Tuscon is a pretty short drive from where I spent my off time. Still, I know that my Uncle was a great guy. He deserves to have his life celebrated, just like we all should. He kept kicking until the end, and that's all anyone can do.
