First though, I've found out a little more about what's going on right now. Apparently Uncle became lucid enough and was able to communicate clearly enough that he did not want to live this way. This was something my mom and her cousin Judy had really struggled with, but when he vocalized his misery they agreed it was time to let him go. He's been removed from his ventilator and they are in the process of finding a place for him in Hospice. My mom guesses they'll just keep him off the ventilator and stop removing the liquid from his lungs. They'll put him on enough medication to keep him comfortable and he'll probably just stop breathing at some point. Now, on to the story.
He was born in the foothills of Appalachia in Nolansburg, Kentucky. He was the oldest and the only boy with two sisters, my grandmother being one of them. His father (Brutis Metcalfe) was an alcoholic and diagnosed with bipolar disorder, but it went untreated. For that, his father couldn't hold a job and they were deathly poor. My great grandma Nancy "Belle" Louis was the only reason they survived. They ate what they could grow... although as you may know Appalachia isn't known for having rich soil. Apparently Brutis' bipolar disorder became dangerous. He would physically and verbally abuse the family, and my Great Aunt mentioned that she had woken up more than once with her dad pointing a gun at her. They all made it through, and Uncle graduated Valedictorian of his high school class.
Here the order and exact details of everything are a little fuzzy. He would have graduated high school around 1941 so my guess is he went into the military before college. In WWII Uncle was part of a special outfit (actually FDR's son was in the same unit as Uncle). It's been explained to me like this: In WWII the US used Navajo to send coded messages, so that even if Japan could decode our messages they would have no idea how to speak Navajo. But Uncle's situation was that say, in a fox hole there would be a marine, a navajo, and one of those communication guys you see in the movies with the box and the phone on their back. I'm obviously not that engrossed in military terms. Anyway, communication guy was my Uncle's role. Apparently if they were ever captured the marine was supposed to shoot and kill the navajo so that the Japanese couldn't learn the language. I don't know how true that is but whatever. From this, Uncle learned quite a bit of Navajo, but I think he lost it over the course of many years. He was also highly valued for his botanical knowledge. From his experiences as a kid he knew exactly what they could and could not eat of what was growing around them. He received many medals throughout WWII, but they weren't very important to him apparently because we have no idea where they are.
From there he went to college. This I have personally asked him about. He loved school. He apparently graduated with far more credit hours than he actually needed. I'm not sure if he went to Miami for undergrad and graduate school or just graduate school. I do know that he even took some summer courses at Kent at some point in his life. But in school he became fluent in both Spanish and French. I believe he did have three different majors: English, Spanish, and French. I forget exactly though. Seriously, he just loved to learn. He got a job at Miami after he graduated. I believe he was a librarian here. He would later teach English courses in the Fairfield school systems. From what Uncle has said, he loved being a teacher. What better job for him than to pass on his passion for learning on to others? Apparently the kids loved him too. They even pitched in and bought Uncle a Fairfield High varsity jacket as a gift. Anyway, he eventually bought a house in Hamilton. His family in Kentucky would come live in Uncle's house until they got a job and earned enough money to live on their own. Uncle was their way out of poverty.
He never married. I don't know if there were any almosts, or marriage just didn't interest him. Later in life Uncle became a pack rat. He would order cheap "collectable" plates that he would never open. He would come home from the grocery store with an entire van full of junk for one person, which of course he would never eat. When I would go over to his house it was kind of like an adventure. There was a path through the piles of junk leading to everywhere. To sit down you had to clear things out. Every time I went over there I would find something I liked and got to keep it as a present. It seemed strange, but didn't bother me. Finally it got to the point where Uncle just couldn't take care of himself and my grandma was exhausted from trying to keep up with him. Uncle would forget to take important medication, or leave a pot on the stove. So we had to move him out and sell the house that had been so important to the family for so many years. That was a job. I helped clean out the garage where there were cases and cases of canned foods that had expired years ago. There were maggots in all of them. Apparently when my grandpa first opened the garage he had found a cat that had gotten trapped in there and died. It was a little gross. All in all it took us several years to clear the house out.
Now don't get me wrong. He wasn't just a crazy old guy. His spending habits did at least buy him enough insurance that he would have been completely covered in a nursing home as long as he lived. Unfortunately he hasn't quite made it there from the hospital. Oh well. But he was incredibly witty. This lighthearted intelligence continued even to through the first month or so of him being in the hospital. You could always tell when he was joking because he'd get this little smile on his face and his eyes would literally twinkle. They would just light up when he was having fun with you. Uncle was one of the warmest, brightest, and funniest people I have ever met, and I will miss him terribly.
Thank you for posting this. Your family will be in my thoughts.
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