As a child I adored Uncle Brooks. He moved to the farm before I was born and lived in a small house with no running water, right next to his woodshop, which was roughly twice the size of the house. I loved to visit because he would make blocks for me out of walnut scraps. Family lore had it that he had been a farmer at his parents’ home until his mother died, and after that he was somewhat adrift. I was fourteen when he died, so I hadn’t had time to learn the “rest of the story,” but years later my father gave me a few details.

When he left his family home, he became a sort of itinerant paying guest at a succession of homes. As both a bachelor and a blowhard, he soon fell out of favor with each family, one of the major reasons being that he was a self-proclaimed expert on childrearing.

Somebody once tried to buttonhole him. “Now, Brooks,” said this person. “You need to get your own place. You can buy an acre of land somewhere and build yourself a little cabin. Wouldn’t that be nice?” Uncle Brooks agreed that that would be nice. He promptly went to a neighbor who had a very large yard, and asked to buy an acre right slap in the middle of it. Of course, he was turned away.

My grandfather, Uncle Brooks’ brother-in-law, fended him off for many years. When Granddaddy died, however, Uncle Brooks came right around and asked my father if he could bring a little house up to the farm. Daddy agreed, and the die was cast. For the next twenty years or so, he built high-end furniture, kept bees, and talked the hind leg off a donkey whenever he got the opportunity. Even as a feeble old man, he would run like the wind to keep a black cat from crossing in front of him.

One adventure with Uncle Brooks’ honeybees provides a study in contrast. He had to move some hives, and that was a two-person job. He called on a neighbor, Old Man George Lee, the most taciturn of men. Mr. Lee obligingly came to help, and Uncle Brooks explained the procedure at great length.

“Now, George, the most important thing is to stay calm, no matter what,” said Uncle Brooks. “Keep the board level and say something if we need to set it down for any reason.” Old Man Lee nodded in silence and picked up his end of the board.

When they were about halfway to their destination, Mr. Lee spoke up in his quiet Southern drawl. “Brooooks?  Can we put this thing dowwwwn? One a-them is a-stingin’ me.”