… my great uncle died.

Don’t worry, I didn’t know him at all. I mean, someone knew him and I feel bad about it, but I only met him once or twice up by his lake cabin in MN.

I call him my great uncle because that’s what I remember him as. I honestly don’t know how he was related to me — he was my grandfather’s nephew or something like that — but I remember him from my childhood as being a big man with huge, fat, cigar-smelling hands and a bigger smile.

We went fishing out on his lake. More than once or twice, now that I think about it.

I also remember seeing a ring on his finger and thinking it was pretty.

Strange thing.

He was a Mason.