How Dare the Robins Sing

I found out Sunday that my favorite Uncle had died. He was the only uncle I claimed and the only one I thought anything good about. He alone of all my father's family took any interest in us after my father died. He alone cared about our well being. He alone commanded and received my respect.

Born and raised in a city he somehow had country life in his heart and moved out to the middle of no where after his first marriage ended. He'd still find time to come visit and have us up whenever time and money allowed. He never forgot us and I will never forget him for that.

This was the only man I ever allowed to call me "boy" after I considered myself a man. The image I will always carry of him is the day he came to visit and drew down, old west style, on a group of west Baltimore ghetto rats. They were friends of mine and we were all hanging around outside my house when he drove up for a visit. One of the young lions (not me, I had MUCH better sense) said or did or looked a way the old lion didn't approve of and quick as you please he had a magnum in his hand and under the nose of the offender. After a hasty apology he gave the guy a few dollars and sent him to, "Get me some coddies from the store up yonder. Be quick and mind my change, boy."

Old school.

I could go on and on but I don't imagine him as one to want anyone going on and on about it.

Anderson Collins

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Uncle and Friend

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Rest In Peace

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