I use to blame everything on my Mom. After all, she not only married a man without money, the man was also without hair. But now I realize that there is much blame to place on my Uncle Manny.
My first memory of my Uncle Manny was as my roommate. Fresh from WW II, the Big One, and in his cute sailor uniform, he moved in with us on Pine Street. When he would pick me up, I felt that I was in the hands of a true giant. He was also a big hero. I knew this to be true because he kept telling me so. And he had a scar to prove it!
According to my Uncle Manny, the Japanese were about to invade Jones Beach when he spots the Jap battle ships. He quickly warns the people on the beach and dives into ocean to head off the enemy. A Jap sub fires off a torpedo. (I guess it was trying to sink the East Bath House!) My Uncle Manny quickly turns, bravely swimming directly towards the incoming torpedo. Faster, faster he swims. My Uncle Manny rams his head against the torpedo and turns it back towards the Japs. A Jap war ship blows up and the rest retreat with their tails between their legs. Jones Beach is saved!
Each time he would tell me this story (and he told it many, many times), he would show me his scar where the torpedo hit his head. I was so proud of my Uncle Manny. After all, he faced off the whole Jap fleet with his bare hands, and of course - his head.
I could not wait to tell the story about my hero uncle to my friends and classmates in first grade. One morning when the teacher asked us if we had anything interesting to tell the class, I raised my hand. In front of the whole class I told how my brave Uncle Manny attacked the whole Jap fleet, how the torpedo bounced off his head sinking a Jap battle ship, how he saved Jones Beach and America. I could not understand why everyone was laughing, even my teacher. Apparently no one ever heard of the Battle of Jones Beach. Evidently Newsday never carried the story.
My classmates kept laughing at me. I noticed that my teacher marked something in her class notebook. She never looked at me in the same way again. Neither did my classmates. My schooling took a definite downturn. I never raised my hand again until I joined Navy.
I told my Mom about what happen in school. I don't think she was happy. She was already upset with my Uncle Manny; she found food under the bathtub. My Uncle Manny had instructed my sister and me that if we did not like the food my Mom made for us, we should throw it under the tub. We were just following our Uncle Manny's directions.
But of course the thing that really got my Mom really upset was when my Uncle Manny gave her children food poisoning. One morning my Uncle Manny cooked pancakes for my sister and me. Claiming that he didn't know because he couldn't smell, my Uncle Manny cooked the pancakes in lamb fat. I still can taste them today! Boy, they were bad! Boy, did we get sick!
The lamb fat episode forced my Mom to take an extreme measure. She pushed my Uncle Manny off on her unsuspecting niece. After all, her son and daughter (especially her son) came first. My Mom even made the wedding dress (made out of a silk parachute) before the second date just to make sure things moved along quickly.
I swear that the above is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. If anyone doubts it, just ask my Uncle Manny.