With Uncle Carlo in the Snow - Dr. Ed Iannuccilli

With Uncle Carlo in the Snow - Dr. Ed Iannuccilli

As winter tracks us and we come closer to those extraordinary snow days of childhood, I think of my Uncle Carlo and his adventuresome spirit. It was he who helped me revel in big snow when mounds of it lined the sidewalks. In a rare moment of weakness, I (almost) hope it happens again so I can relive the excitement. No, never mind, I don’t want a blizzard, and I have enough excitement. In fact, notwithstanding its beauty and sometimes adventure, I don’t want any snow at all.

Uncle Carlo was married to my mother’s sister, Della, and they lived in the same tenement house; his family on the first floor, ours on the third, grandparents, of course, on the second. Snowstorms thrilled him, and he blended that thrill with a desire to help people. When it snowed, he was ready. “This is a Northeaster. The chains are on the truck. Let’s go!”  I loved it. He had no fear, and so at thirteen, neither did I. Staying at home during a “Nor’easter” was simply out of the question. As I struggled to clasp the thousands of buckles on my rubber boots, he bellowed up the stairs, “C’mon, c’mon. Let’s go.”

We jumped into his ’49 Dodge two-door truck. Hard drops of sleet whacked the windshield. The cloth seats were cold. So were my feet. The whirring heater’s fan was gasping and cranking. But grumbling was not an option in Uncle’s world.

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It was exciting to watch him maneuver the clutch and the shift. With an ever-present cigar stub tucked in the corner of his mouth, its smell pervasive, a reliable box of Dutch Masters on the visor, he pushed the clutch, pulled the shift into first, stepped on the gas, wound it out, pushed the clutch, shifted into second, stepped on the gas, wound it out, pushed the clutch, shifted down to third, and toe-tapping the gas, he spun the wheels, the chains shrieked, and off we went. Sometimes, and I could not figure why, he would skip the second step and go from first to third with a world-class move. To drive like that was my desire. I had three years to wait.

The defroster barely melted the ice on the windshield. The tiny wipers hardly had a chance to clear. Uncle could hardly see, so he leaned forward and squinted. We trudged along, heater whirring, chains clanging the fenders, ice glazing the windows. Perfect.

Eager to help, he was looking for a stranded vehicle. “There! Right there!” He stopped, we jumped out. The air was fresh and heavy with the taste of cold and the force of the snow. Branches were cracking. Pigeons were hunkered on wires.

Latching a chain bumper to bumper, he backed the truck and pulled the car out. The motorist went off with a hail of “Thank-you’s” filling the air. Uncle Carlo smiled, bit down on his cigar, and yelped, “Let’s go!”

The world is full of opportunities to help. Uncle Carlo’s passion for helping was infectious.

Dr. Ed Iannuccilli is the author of three popular memoirs, “Growing up Italian; Grandfather’s Fig Tree and Other Stories”, “What Ever Happened to Sunday Dinner” and “My Story Continues: From Neighborhood to Junior High.”  Learn more HERE.