Christmas is for Family

If memory serves correctly, this is Uncle Dale’s birthday. Had he not succumbed to ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease) several years ago, I’m guessing he would have been 87 today. Uncle Dale remains larger than life in my recollections of growing up a Hanna, particularly this time of year. Since Uncle Dale had three daughters, I fancied myself the recipient of any toys meant for boys he may have had a hankering to give. Lincoln Logs, flashlights, and model cars are among the many gifts I received from Uncle Dale and Aunt Phyllis, one of the most generous couples I have ever known. It’s that generosity that figures prominently in my memory of Uncle Dale, as it must for many, many others. By any measure a successful farmer, it came naturally to him to freely share his wealth. I learned as much about the stewardship of time and talents from Uncle Dale as I did from any textbook, an irony of sorts since he had a tendency to feel somewhat inferior due to his lack of higher education—guess that’s how I developed my skepticism about the undue emphasis that gets placed on degrees, etc. I think of him often, but especially at Christmas. He never left any doubt in my mind that Santa Claus and the baby Jesus go hand in hand delivering the joy of a life well lived.