(Originally
published on 12/22/15)
In my
pre-Christmas wanderings today, I came upon something unusual. It was lying out
with a building’s trash—a commonplace sighting in the first couple of weeks of the
new year, but peculiar on December 22. I beheld a fair-sized, fresh-looking
Christmas tree that appeared—prior to getting the heave-ho—to have been decorated
and in a stand. I was left to wonder about that house without a Christmas tree
and its backstory. It also called to mind a TV movie from the early 1970s: The
House Without a Christmas Tree. It starred Jason Robards and was rerun at
Christmastime for several years on CBS. But that story ended on a happy note: The
house without a Christmas tree at long last had one.
From
houses with and without Christmas trees to “Uncle Chuck.” Foremost, he is not
my uncle, which is not a bad thing. In fact, Uncle Chuck is the antithesis of
avuncular. A friend of mine and I cryptically refer to the man as such—and not
to his face by the way—because of something that once hung on the wall of his business
establishment.
Strangely
enough, Uncle Chuck is better known around town as “Crazy Chuck,” a well-earned
moniker based on years of bizarre and sometimes scary behavior. For convenience
purposes, I have long patronized Chuck’s shop. Okay, the guy has a few anger
management issues. On more than one occasion, I have seen him hurling his
telephone against a wall. Chuck’s unpredictable, borderline violent brand of
customer service regularly shocks and awes unsuspecting patrons. A nearby
entrepreneur, who offers some of the same services as Chuck, told me that he
frequently hears war stories from the frontlines. War stories, that is, from
shell-shocked former Crazy Chuck customers. He posed the most obvious question and
an unsolved mystery—“But how does he stay in business?”
Well,
Uncle Chuck may have finally “Jumped the Shark” vis-à-vis me. In my presence
this past week, he punched in anger—the genuine article—an inanimate object
that he should not have punched and then treated it roughly after that. By the
end of our transaction, Uncle Chuck had calmed down sufficiently to mutter,
“Happy Holiday!” This is his modus operandi. Suffice it to say, I did not feel
his season’s greeting was all that heartfelt. “But how does he stay in
business?” Good question, because he is an equal opportunity Raging Bull, who
rages against everybody and anybody at the drop of a hat and for no apparent
reason.
Why pray
tell have I returned to the belly of the beast as often as I have? That is
another good question. Somebody once told me that I turn everybody into
characters. There is some truth to that. Uncle Chuck, after all, is an
extraordinary character and I have a high tolerance for inappropriate behavior.
Nevertheless, it is one of my New Year’s Resolutions to bid a not-so-fond
farewell to Uncle Chuck. I understand that I might be missing something big on
the life stage—bigger than the trashing of the telephones—but I just do not
want to chance it any longer. Being Uncle Chuck’s piñata—when he totally goes
postal—is something to be avoided by all who know him.
