Like brother, like brother

My Uncle Jerry, my dad’s younger brother, stopped to visit for a bit. He lives in Wisconsin and was in Houston visiting a friend from grad school.

It was just like talking to my dad.

Maybe it’s because I know both of them — relatives are the people you’ve known all your life, the people who are part of your pre-consciousness. Maybe Russel and Jerry have changed as they’ve gotten older. Gary had pointed it out. But I’d never noticed before just how alike they are.

They have the same mannerisms, the same inflection in their voice. They change subjects, jump from fact to fact. They are both university professors, both have Ph.D.’s in geography. Perhaps that’s what makes them so similar. (That, and the fact that they have the same upbringing.)

We don’t see Jerry a lot, and when the girls walked in from school, none of them was sure just who he was. Maddie told me she thought it was her grandpa sitting on the couch. Only shorter with more grey hair.

They would probably claim they are nothing alike. But I would defer to my children. They calls ’em as they sees ’em.