Alan Smolarek passed away suddenly on March 9, 2016 at age 60. Uncle Al was my friend and I will deeply miss him. This week I did much reflecting. I looked at his Facebook page. Pictured there is George W. Bush waving and smiling with the caption "Miss me yet?" over his name "Al Smolarek". It made me smile because it reminded me of how much he loved his country and all the reasons why. It also sunk in how much I will miss Uncle Al.
Cover photo on Al Smolarek's Facebook page. https://www.facebook.com/al.smolarek
Uncle Al retired recently. He loved the outdoors, he was a good cook, enjoyed a cocktail or two, and liked shooting guns. Our last conversation was upbeat and fun. We planned to shoot guns together when it got warmer. I planned to bring along one of my home grown roosters...10-12 lbs of meat...to cook on the grill! Uncle Al and Sue (Kent), his loving life partner for 35 years, supported the 4-H program by buying a rooster/chicken raised by kids.
Speaking of Sue, every word of wisdom from Uncle Al usually started with two words "Sue said...". Uncle Al could be a bit of a grump sometimes. Sue is the one person that could get through to him...I always enjoyed watching: “Al, stop” she’d say. He’d respond with a “What????” Then he’d look at me with his silly smirk and that would be the end to the grump. I lost an uncle and a friend. Sue however lost a very special companion who clearly was her soul mate for lack of a better term.
My cousin Adam Smolarek and his friend harvested a deer off Uncle Al’s property last fall and shared their harvest him. Uncle Al told me how great it was to have venison in the freezer and asked that I bring over the tiller to make a food plot for deer so Adam and his friend would continue to keep Uncle Al and Sue stocked with venison...Uncle Al was excited to have venison this year. There is a party store somewhere by Uncle Al’s house that processes and sells venison. Uncle Al bought a hammed venison rump for me once that was absolutely awesome! I learned how to ham a venison rump from the Mother Earth News and plan to do it once I build my smoker. This is just one other thing that he introduced me to outside of the ordinary.
He and Sue have always been generous to Melissa and I and all of our kids. The kids all loved him and got a kick out of him. He often showed much respect for me in many ways. Uncle Al let me help him with the forming of Altair Systems...the website and developing the logo was a great experience I shared with him. I started a consulting business called “The Quill Consulting Group.” Often he’d start a conversation with me “Hey, Quill...” It was during this time that got closest to Uncle Al. Uncle Alan was generous and trusting of people who took advantage of this over the years, yet he always ensured his employees never went without regardless of how difficult business was.
Many, many memories come to mind when someone moves on. It’s not until such a time that one realizes how important these little moments shape a relationship. Here a few that come to mind of moments between Uncle Al and I:
- He sold me his first guitar for $50 and gave me a Bob Dylan song book and John Denver song book. He had purchased a new guitar with mother of perl frets and gold tuning pegs. I can't remember the wood, but it was an awesome guitar. As for me and my guitar, Uncle Al told me that if I learned how to play the song Hurricane within one year, he’d give me $200! (See: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gGM...). The glue on the bridge of that guitar gave way and I let Uncle Al have it to put on his loft in his house.
Uncle Al playing the guitar he sold to me
- I washed Uncle Al’s jeep and he gave me I believe it was $15 and a homemade tape of bob Dylan Blonde on Blonde. I've loved Dylan since. I think in later years, Uncle Al was more of a Jimmy Buffett and Kid Rock type of guy. He shared a lot of Ted Nugent in recent years - not for his music, but his political activism. Speaking of Ted, Uncle Alan was at the Detroit concert when Ted performed the acoustic version of “Fred Bear” to a campfire on the stage! I can’t find the video but found this version that is so, so very cool! click Fred Bear
- Periodically throughout the years, Uncle Al would share something new he would learn about my Uncle Kenneth Smolarek's time in the Army. Uncle Al was 14 years old when his brother Uncle Ken was killed in Plaku at 19 years old (See the Note “1969 uncle ken remembered august 18 2009” on Facebook. I saved it as a "public" record). This oil painting now hangs in my living room. It is a paint buy numbers picture and was a project to help my grandparents take their mind off of Uncle Ken’s passing. Uncle Al told me that he too helped paint this picture. It is a family heirloom I will cherish until I am gone.
Picture I inherited from my grandparents, Alexander and Jane Smolarek
- Uncle Al loved his country! I plan to proudly fly the Tea Party flag he gave me as a gift this July 4th and on election day in November! Here it is...
- Uncle Al liked the duck that I carved for my grandfather. I offered to carve him a duck and asked what kind of a duck would you like...he said “a bufflehead”...my response was “what's a bufflehead?” By the time I finished the project, I intimately knew what a bufflehead was. It’s a beautiful duck. I liked Uncle Alan’s tastes. Nothing about him was ordinary from the design of his house, how he ran his company, landscaping, etc. to the duck he chose for me to carve. The one exception is he made it clear that he would never try my homemade beer because “...yeah, yeah everyone says their beer is great but it always tastes like shit!”
Bufflehead Duck
- One September or October, can’t remember which, Uncle Al and I camped out at Harbor Beach one weekend - trying to catch salmon from the break wall. It was then he introduced me to Captain Morgan and Apple cider...not to mention Bailey's in my coffee. No fish were caught that weekend.
- Uncle Al loved his pets...Peppy, Marshall, Tucker, Harley and Spud, all dogs, and Spike the cat (there were a couple of other cats in there of his and Sue’s, but for the life of me I can’t remember there names!). He and Sue took in Sidney when my grandparents could no longer take care of her.
- And those younger years....I still remember the glass piggy bank he had in the living room as a teenager trying to raise money. I also thought it was so cool that he and his friends camped out one night in the backyard when I was staying at my grandmothers. Oh and he and Uncle Dave would smoke when my grandparents ran errands. “Punk”, he’d call me. I was not a punk!
Uncle Alan showed me his heart with how he interacted with Melissa, our kids and I. I will love and miss my uncle and friend forever. Here’s to you my friend, Uncle Al...Every Grain of Sand by Bob Dylan....here are the lyrics...
"Every Grain Of Sand" (source: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/bobdylan/everygrainofsand.html)
"Every Grain Of Sand" (source: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/bobdylan/everygrainofsand.html)
In the time of my confession, in the hour of my deepest need
When the pool of tears beneath my feet flood every newborn seed
There's a dying voice within me reaching out somewhere
Toiling in the danger and in the morals of despair.
Don't have the inclination to look back on any mistake
Like Cain, I now behold this chain of events that I must break
In the fury of the moment I can see the master's hand
In every leaf that trembles, in every grain of sand.
Oh, the flowers of indulgence and the weeds of yesteryear
Like criminals, they have choked the breath of conscience and good cheer
The sun beat down upon the steps of time to light the way
To ease the pain of idleness and the memory of decay.
I gaze into the doorway of temptation's angry flame
And every time I pass that way I always hear my name
Then onward in my journey I come to understand
That every hair is numbered like every grain of sand.
I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summer's dream, in the chill of a wintry light
In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space
In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face.
I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, there's someone there, other time it's only me
I am hanging in the balance of the reality of man
Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand.
When the pool of tears beneath my feet flood every newborn seed
There's a dying voice within me reaching out somewhere
Toiling in the danger and in the morals of despair.
Don't have the inclination to look back on any mistake
Like Cain, I now behold this chain of events that I must break
In the fury of the moment I can see the master's hand
In every leaf that trembles, in every grain of sand.
Oh, the flowers of indulgence and the weeds of yesteryear
Like criminals, they have choked the breath of conscience and good cheer
The sun beat down upon the steps of time to light the way
To ease the pain of idleness and the memory of decay.
I gaze into the doorway of temptation's angry flame
And every time I pass that way I always hear my name
Then onward in my journey I come to understand
That every hair is numbered like every grain of sand.
I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summer's dream, in the chill of a wintry light
In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space
In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face.
I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, there's someone there, other time it's only me
I am hanging in the balance of the reality of man
Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand.
Love, your nephew, dennis
Uncle Al’s Obit: http://obits.dignitymemorial.com/dignity-memorial/obituary.aspx?n=Alan-Smolarek&lc=4049&pid=178007592&mid=6838407#
