June 20, 2003  

The Do Dong Jing…

For many years now I’ve always said that if I have a baby boy, I’d like to name him Jack.  Jack’s always been my favorite name.  It’s a strong name.  It’s a good ‘guy’ name.  Jack is everybody’s friend and Jack has spirit. 

None of these characteristics could be more true than of our Uncle Jack.

He was the epitome of a ‘good guy’ and he was a great man. 

He was a loving husband, a devoted and caring brother & son and a wonderful and fun Uncle.  I have always been impressed by what a good brother he was.  He took care of his brother and sister without question and was always there for them.

I think I was about 5 years old when I got the chicken pox.  From that day forward I was only known to Uncle Jack as POX.  Some 30 years later, the name was still there.  I still don’t know why that stuck, but it did.  When I was younger and I would ask him why he called me Pox he’d just say, “Because you’re a Pox”.    

Uncle Jack was great about nicknames.  Most of us kids were a Do Dong at one point or another in our lives.  If we were especially silly, he’s say we were a ‘Do Dong Jing’.  It also took me years to figure out that Aunt Elsie’s name wasn’t really Louise, since that’s what he always called her. 

So many of my childhood memories are wrapped up in spending time with Uncle Jack and Aunt Elsie.  Because they lived so close to us, I spent a great deal of time on Hermitage with them and Aunt Lynn.  So I practically grew up in that house. 

I suppose one my favorite memories is sitting with my siblings & cousins on the front porch waiting for the ‘booger picker’ ice cream man to come by.   Because we always knew Uncle Jack would dig in his pocket for change while decided what we wanted.

I’m sure most of my cousins would agree that Uncle Jack always made each one of us feel special.  He didn’t play favorites and treated us all as if we were his own. 

When I was older and working part time at Kelly’s Pub, he, my dad and Uncle Don came in a few Saturday’s after a movie for a burger.  He ordered his burger and draw beer and teased me that he’d only leave me ‘two bits’ for a tip since we didn’t serve Michelob. 

Uncle Jack’s uniqueness can never be imitated.   His quirks like the way he always folded his napkin and placed it in his breast pocket; the thousands of pictures and slides he took of us all; his 10-strand comb-over; his pleas of ‘language, language even when we said heck and his knack at being the worlds best wall paper-er. 

I will never forget what a kind and wonderful uncle I had. 

Uncle Jack’s spirit will be with me forever.  He’s just one more angel in heaven watching over our family.

Someday when I have children, possibly even a Jack of my own, I will tell them stories about my Uncle Jack and how he was the master of the Do Dong Jings.


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