Lost my Uncle Fritz (aka Frederick); turns out he died suddenly yesterday, most likely from cardiovascular complications of cancer. Had a massive heart attack which took him out pretty quickly. Fritz was my favorite person ever whilst growing up. He didnt have much use for convention, and if you wanted him to follow any rules, you had to prove you were smarter than him. He generally did only what he wanted to do, and not once in my life can I recall a story or incident wherein the consequences of his choices ever fell onto others, save for the time he rode a tricycle about three and a half miles away from home when he wasnt yet four years old. They say my grandmother gave up trying to rationalize practical child safety with him and simply put him on a child-leash after that, so notable because this was the 1930s. Fritz was a natural-born rebel and had no time for fools. When traveling jeebus revivals came into town to take money from the gullible and the desperate, Fritz would lead a troupe of interlopers into the tents and pretend to be seriously interested in being saved and/or cured of whatever phantom ailment. Upon the moment of salvation, he would drop to the ground and spazz out, flailing and cursing and carrying on before breaking into fits of uproarious laughter whilst the holy rollers angrily chased him out. He remained a committed prankster. Fritz owned his shit, and he never made a fuss about anything that wasnt worth it. He always went his own way, and never needed anyone to approve of it. He was never without work until retiring in his 60s, having taken lots of different jobs over the decades. When I was born, hed been working in construction and was famed for being strong enough to carry giant steel prison gates around unaided. He had ancient tattoos on both arms and a large white beard, and looked like Santa Claus if he were a biker. One of my earliest childhood Fritz-memories is of being in his pool, arguing with him over my tacky inflatable pool-dinosaurs name: I insisted it was its scientific classification, Tyrannosaurus Rex, but he would only say Nuh-uh, his name is ANTHONY! Like most of my family, he lived on the East Coast, and I couldnt see him or the others more than a few times, usually when we were gathered en masse for someones funeral. Ill miss him, but I know he would have preferred to go quickly instead of languishing for years. Godspeed to Valhöll, Fritz.
Posted on: Sun, 03 Aug 2014 22:43:55 +0000
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