Uncle Archie Gerard came for a week’s visit, and he stayed four years. He was a great storyteller, he loved a midmorning cigar and he almost never missed going to a Kentucky Derby. He often quoted the Bible and told a dirty story in the same conversation. Being with us on the farm brought him memories of the happiest days of his life when he and his wife, Edie, and their two children lived on a farm in Pike County, Illinois.

Aunt Edie died before her 30th birthday, leaving Unc with a little girl and boy. He lived more than 90 years and never loved any other woman. Edie was in heaven and he’d see her again, but it puzzled him that she died as a beautiful young woman and he’d meet her again as a wrinkled, deaf old man. It also puzzled him that Russia sent a “sputnik” out into who-kn~ows-wh~er~e. Was his Edie OK out there?

Our Nancy and Walt were early elementary school age when he lived with us, and Unc became very important in their lives because their grandfather Gerard died before they were born. Unc read “The Little Train That Could” and “Little Black Sambo” to them so often that he’d make up extra incidents, to break the monotony. “Unc,” Walt would say, “get your glasses!”

Unc’s favorite program on radio was the weather forecast. Each spring he’d say, “Nothing can compare with the April we had in 1910.” And we never tired of hearing him tell about the night when Chub, my husband, was born: “Albert and Nellie had three girls and they were hoping for a boy, this time.” He’d light a cigar, and we’d all listen as if we’d never heard it before. His farm joined his brother’s place, and, because babies were born at home, the men would go get the doctor for each other’s wives.

“That was some winter,” Unc would say. “It was April 20, 1910, and the peas were standing high and in bloom. How pretty they were, frozen stiff and covered with snow! The trees had already leafed out, and that cold wind turned them black. They all dropped off and we didn’t know whether they’d ever come back. A few weeks later the trees finally put on enough leaves to keep them alive.”

“It was a real blizzard the night that Albert called to say, ‘Go get the doctor, NOW!’ I dressed, lighted the oil lantern and went to the barn in blowing snow. I couldn’t blame Old Maud for not wanting to go out in that weather. The worst part of getting her harnessed was that she wouldn’t raise her tail so I could put the crupper under it. I raised it for her, and away we went. It was four miles to New Salem but Dr. Andrew was ready and waiting.

“It was four more cold miles back in that buggy. Then a nervous Albert welcomed us into his warm home. We forgot about the blizzard, sometime after midnight, when Doc came out of the bedroom and announced, ‘It’s a boy.’ They named him Walter, for our father.” Unc said, “There’s never been an April like that one.” He should know. He’d experienced 85 winters by then!

Unc always ended the story by saying, “For many years there was a note written on the New Salem blacksmith’s wall: ‘April 20, 1910’ -- Snow.’*”