My Uncle Jack spent some time in prison. He raised a son, and then took life solo.

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My Uncle Jack had a woman, when she was to be had. She did not have him. She came. She went.

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My Uncle Jack taught me to mix him a Scotch before I could make a decent glass of tea. He played Star Wars all day while drinking and fixing his boat.

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My Uncle Jack name his dog "the N word" so that my mother would have to scream this across town to try to find the crap dog: all so he could get a laugh (Disclaimer: When you're poor af, no-ones racist unless they can't spare a cup of sugar).

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My Uncle Jack was Red-Pilled before it was cool. I have no idea where he is now. He is probably dead. I think he found freedom too late, but he inadvertently taught me how to smile.

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Thanks, Jack.