Uncle Charlie
Charles Paul Taggart died the other day. To the grown ups in my life he was known as Paul. To all my cousins, my sisters and I he was known as Uncle Charlie. He was a larger than life cowboy who'd also been a sailor. Strong as a bull elephant, twinkling eyed, kind, generous and open hearted, he was my boyhood hero. I can still viscerally feel the anticipation of waiting for him and his family to arrive at gatherings. Back then they lived in Texas and we lived in Evanston, Wyoming where most gatherings took place at the Sims Hotel, owned and operated by our Aunt Lue. Uncle Charlie's son, Shawn is the same age as me and between knowing I was going to see my buddy, and Uncle Charlie and Aunt Joyce I couldn't sit still. He drove a burnt sienna(thanks Crayola) Cadillac that seemed to be about 40 feet long. When we saw that car come down Front Street from the underpass, I'd leap out of my own self with joy. When he spotted us he'd give a couple of pops on the car horn...