Saturday, October 3, 2020
When in middle school, I couldn't wait for my summer vacations to roll around. It was when I could stay at the Basch family farm on Phillips road in Webster. My Uncle Eugene taught me many things. He showed me how to climb trees, shoot a rifle, how to hunt and to appreciate nature. Most of all, he assured me it was okay to be myself and to view the world as only a young adolescent could.
I'll never forget the time we walked to the far reaches of the farm. Uncle Eugene had his trusty .22 Hornet rifle as we went to investigate a loud ruckus in the direction of the pond reservoir. There, we counted at least 20 ducks as they were diving for a snack. He asked me if I ever tasted duck. We looked at each, both shaking our heads "no". Uncle Eugene took careful aim and waited until 3 of them were lined up in a row. He whispered saying "Don't make a sound, don't move." Just then, KA POWwww!! He found a fallen tree branch and pulled the 3 game birds into reach. We carried them, holding thier feet upright, back to the farm house, where Grandma was very surprised.
Uncle Eugene was my hero, my best friend and my mentor. He meant everything to me. I often wondered why I had to return to the city in the Fall, and how I would've turned out if my Uncle were instead my father.
