The Godfather of Dudes, a sentimental memoir by Mary Lewandowski

Folks have formed the template on which many Dude relationships are based. But Dude-ism is, in fact, an historically recognizable phenomenon. The urge to marry and raise a family is not the only standard. My Uncle Frank was such a man of irregular values, a lifelong Dude. Living in the basement of my grandmother’s house and becoming a curious presence to me when Grandma died and my parents moved in, we were very aware of the ways he subverted “normal” living. Uncle Frank lived from the devoted charity of his sisters and brothers, and, it seemed to them, squandered it in a dubious marketplace. A flea market vendor ‘til the very end, he kept the company of a suspicious cast of odd fellows and wayward women that seemed threatening to my parents. There was overt disdain for the unfamiliar currency of favors and trades that quickly fell off when Uncle Frank fell ill. Who could Uncle Frank trust? A good number emerged for his funeral, but only one or two showed up during the months of hospice that preceded it. No doubt they were engrossed in the pace of their marketplace, speaking his name often with affectionate and saddened voices. I did not know any of his compatriots, but he was necessarily a shining softness among them – a man of such big heart and gentle nature that he frequently found himself on the short end (again, as it seemed to my parents) of a shrewd deal. Fitting that his final traffic accident – the fault of the other driver, for the first time – resulted in an insurance reward so enormous that it paid for two months of hospital care and continues to return to my mother and her four siblings even now, eight years after his death. Perhaps it was the short end of the deal again, though it was clear that Uncle Frank was not particularly concerned with such achievements. I understand Uncle Frank to be a sort of Dude Godfather, perhaps the Dudefather, living and breathing the same fashion of odd trades that occupy my Dude existence.