Uncle George and the Smoke

Family and friends of the Marco community never fail to embrace the lives of almost everyone that chooses to live among the coastal islands of Collier County. Some of our chronicles are so unique or poignant the narrative cannot fail to reach into the most heartfelt emotion, but on rare occasions, the fabric of the exceptional can become the threads of urban legend or perhaps a tale from the supernatural. 

Uncle George was larger than life. He was always the biggest personality in the room, and he knew no strangers - at least, not for long. Uncle George had his traits, tendencies, and a tenacious grip on all of his beloved family and friends. For anyone who first met Uncle George, that person might believe he was an old-fashioned gangster straight out of a mafia movie. A big stubby cigar was always part of Uncle George’s personality and for everyone who knew the giant of man, wafting cigar smoke was always the telltale signal that Uncle George was nearby, present, or on the move. 

Uncle George was the owner of several restaurants. His immigrant family was Macedonian, and wherever Uncle George would travel throughout Detroit and the neighboring suburbs, he would always hold court in the bar of whichever restaurant he was visiting for the day. Uncle George had more associates, cronies, and protégés than a politician, and with his business suits, crumpled fedoras, and pungent cigars, he was indeed unforgettable.

After a big and boisterous life with more weddings, christenings, and funerals than anyone can imagine, Uncle George also made the ultimate crossing and passed away. His funeral in Detroit remains legendary, as does his legacy to all of his Marco relatives and ancestors. 

After his passing, his wife Verica could not bear the all-too-familiar restaurants, bars, and lounges that were Uncle George’s old haunts in Detroit. Verica might have been a new widow and ready to begin another chapter in a new life, but after the move to Marco Island, she began to discover there was much more waiting than palm trees and tropical beaches.

As the years began to pass with the seasons, Verica would notice, from time to time, the hint of cigar smoke where no cigar smoke was possible.

Whenever Verica would happen to meet a handsome man at church or at a holiday gathering, the subtle hint of Uncle George’s cigars would arrive drifting on the breeze. Cigar smoke would also baffle many restaurant managers whenever Verica was out to dinner with any man who was not Uncle George.

When an air-conditioning serviceman became pushy about selling Verica a new and expensive air-conditioning system, a strong tang of Uncle George’s cigars gave cause for the obnoxious man to look around, back off, and suddenly retreat to his company truck and the waiting roadway. 

Several years later, a niece in Uncle George’s family was married and then had her first child. The boy grew quickly and was always the spitting image of his Macedonian ancestors. One day, when the niece and her bright and inquisitive young boy were visiting a grandmother and Verica - in a closed apartment - the wafting scent of cigar smoke began drifting into the rooms.

When the niece began to notice the spectral smoke and began to comment on the pungent aroma, there was laughter and then comments from the elders. “That’s Uncle George come to visit. He has followed the family down from Detroit. Whenever we smell smoke, Uncle George is here and ready to keep an eye on everyone.”

After a rash of goosebumps, the young boy, who was the Macedonian heir, decided he wanted something to drink. With everyone now engaged in a new topic of discussion, the boy was encouraged to go into the kitchen and choose a beverage from the refrigerator.

When the boy disappeared into the hallway and was on his way to the kitchen, another strong scent of cigar smoke flooded the living room where the ladies were waiting. Before another comment was possible, a scream came from the kitchen and the little six-year-old ran out, jumped up on the couch and began to hug his mother.

“There is a big man in the kitchen.” The little boy cried. “He is wearing an old suit with a hat, and he is smoking a big brown cigarette. When I went to the refrigerator, he came from around the corner. Why is that old man smoking in the house? I thought there was no smoking!”

After Mom, Verica, and another grandmother jumped up to explore for an intruder in the kitchen, it became obvious that there was no stranger in the home. The little boy was visibly upset and shaken and wanted to leave the apartment as soon as possible. With reluctant goodbyes to an abrupt and unexpected ending, the family gathering broke up and everyone went home.

The little boy refused to go back to the family apartment for weeks. Finally, and with an idea prompted by the oldest of the grandmothers, the little Macedonian began to learn of his heritage from old photo albums. Stories soon began to flow and told of older relatives and other cities and countries before southwest Florida became the new reality.

After several pages of photographs and many family anecdotes became entertainment for the very young man, the turning of a page revealed several photos of Uncle George in his heyday in Detroit.

When the boy saw the pictures of the boisterous family member who was always larger than life, he started shouting: “That’s the man! The little voice insisted. “That’s the man who was in the kitchen by the refrigerator. That’s the man who was smoking when everyone smelled the smoke!” 

Tom Williams is a Marco Islander and the author of two books: “Lost and Found” and “Surrounded by Thunder - the Story of Darrell Loan and the Rocket Men.” Both books are available on Kindle and Nook.