Uncle Ed is my father’s youngest brother. Shortly, way too shortly after my brother passed unexpectedly, and for unknown causes, there went Uncle Ed on June 3.
I was heartbroken. You see, every uncle and each aunt contributed something to the person I am today. Every loss affects me differently, but this one was particularly difficult. Uncle Ed was my mentor as I journeyed through the process of learning the ways of my grandmother in the kitchen.
Although I had always enjoyed cooking and baking, Uncle Ed was the one who inspired me most when it came to my favorite German recipes.
How would I know that? Well, he and my Aunt Alice, who passed away way too young at 76 in 2016 after 20 years of living with cancer, held our family together after grandma and grandpa died.
I saw her in the hospital the night before she left us and before leaving said, “I love you, and we will watch over Uncle Ed for you.”
Well, the best-laid plans of mice and men, I guess. I feel somewhat guilty cause that’s not how that panned out. Uncle Ed and I texted, maybe talked on the phone on his birthday, but we never got together again like we used to when Uncle Ed was Uncle Ed and Aunt Alice.
The cousin’s dinners we had were all at Uncle Ed’s. Alice was the hostess with the most-ess, making sure that the place settings at Christmas were decorative. We left with some precious memories like a potted Hoya from our Grandmother Christine or a hand-painted ornament for our Christmas tree. You see, like my mother, Alice was an artist.
We ate like German royalty at their house — Dennis, Marion, Janice, Janeen, Twila, myself, and our spouses. There were sausages, Fleisch keuchla, strudels, candies, pickles to die for, artisan loaves of bread, and some ordinary non-German foods. But not too many. Uncle Ed was bringing my grandmother, whom I never had the time to get to know well, back to life through food.
I remember one winter after my divorce, Uncle Ed took my son, Adam, fishing with some other uncles. He came home after learning how to pee outside and swear in German.
Uncle Ed also grew a lovely rose garden. He had a green thumb for sure. He told me the secret to great pickles was growing the correct variety of cucumbers. I was gifted many houseplants when they downsized from their beautiful home to a condo.
The greatest plant was a vintage rose bush that spreads and finally after several years as a captive on the perimeter of our yard spring forth pink blooms. It was shortly after he died.
After my cancer diagnosis, Ed’s son, Jon, reached out on his behalf and checked up on me through texts. Jon spends some time every summer at the cabin (where we had pig roasts and picnics) on Beaver Bay by Linton.
With the farmers market, my book Ewiger Saatz, and a love of food, I am passing along the traditions of my grandmothers to my children, grandchildren, and brother. I’m also sharing my sourdough bread technique with my cousin Jon.
Lung cancer, my brother’s unexpected death, and now Uncle Ed — what else can I expect from 2023?
INDYchildrendotme 
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