Tuesday, May 26, 2009
name: Christopher Fulkerson, Ph.D.
company: ChristopherFulkerson.com
email: Christopher@ChristopherFulkerson.com
phone: 650-343-3760
description: I am saddened at my Uncle Lou's death, and send greetings and love to all the family.
You ask for a story: my favorite Uncle Lou story dates from the big deal trip we Fulkersons took in the big green station wagon when it was new, drove across country to visit the family we had heard so much about. I as the oldest was about fifteen. Lou took us in to New York City to see the sites; this had to include the Subway, since his father had worked on it, and Grampa had told me horror stories about the people who got caught on the third rail, etc. So down we went. It was the loudest noise I had ever heard, utterly uncomfortable, and we came out sweaty and gritty. Everybody in our family thought the experience horrible, but I had only thought of it as a way to get from point A to point B, and Grampa's stories had kept me from thinking it was going to be a joy ride. Everybody (probably including me) complained bitterly about the experience and this hurt and annoyed Lou, who had thought he was just doing his duty showing us the subway. We were totally unpre
pared for how awful the subway was going to be, we were truly in shock. It was impossible to say anything nice about it, but I managed to chime in with, "Well, thanks for the experience, Uncle Lou." He laughed loud and long about that, and seemed to really appreciate that though I couldn't thank him for the "pleasure," which it wasn't, he could at least be thanked for the "experience." I didn't even know that what I was saying was funny, but that was what Lou's sense of humor could be like. He found something to appreciate about being spoken to in as diplomatic a way as I could muster. That story was a family staple for years, whenever something happened that we really didn't like, but which added to the fund of knowledge, we might jokingly say something like, "Well at least it was a new experience." I will miss Uncle Lou.
