“That’s not funny. But don’t worry; it’s a running joke, so they’ll repeat it several times until you have no choice but to find it funny.” – The Nostalgia Critic, Suburban Commando review
My father’s family has a history of people that are… well, liars. And I mean this is the best way possible. The funny kind of liars, you know? For example, one of my uncles is a high school teacher, and he once seriously attempted to convince a class that cantaloupes are grown on terrace-style farms, and so the only way for the cantaloupe farmers to harvest the fruits is by harpooning them from the lower levels (the scary part of this story is that his class at least acted as if they believed him).
The lying, outrageous as it is, adds to the family charm, and has done so for generations. My grandma’s brother (FXR Jr.), I’ve been told, had the same sense of humor. And my grandma’s father (FXR Sr.), though not quite as bad, is reported to have had a good sense of humor as well. However, I really wasn’t aware of how far back this characteristic existed until I was going through a box of old photographs and documents from my grandma’s collection. In an old folder I found some postcards and a letter sent by FXR Sr.’s mother’s brother, Francis Doonan (the name “Francis” is apparently another inescapable family trait) from his time in France during WWI.
The first postcard, addressed to “Sister Margaret” (one of FXR Sr.’s sisters) in 1918 reads: “I was just downtown for a couple of hours for my breakfast. They are in the wagon behind a load of eggs. I sure have some appetite. Love, Uncle Frank.”
Next, a postcard addressed to “Master Peter” (one of FXR Sr.’s brothers): “I done this job – I lost my hat, I couldn’t find it, so I tore down this little shack. I am standing looking over the job. Love, Uncle Frank.”
With his… unique, dry sense of humor, the comedic Uncle Frank managed to put a funny spin on the images of war he was sending home to his nieces and nephews. The three-page letter he sent to FXR Sr., however, shows more of his humor, but also more of his personality as a whole:
Sent from Gievres, France. February 11, 1919.
“My dear Francis;
Just a few lines Frank old boy to let you know that your letter is on hand and that I don't know how to explain how overjoyed I was to get it, it sure was a corker. Thats the kind of letter I like to receive it sure was a big one.
Say Frank, that was a corking picture you sent me of you in the Sailor suit, you sure looked the goods, I'll bet your lady friend was crazy about it, I was so proud of it that I had to show it alla round the camp I sure did let them know that it was my nephew.
The letter that I received today is the second one that I have received from you.
Frank you ought to be glad that you are not over here, it is way below zero and still going strong water is all frozen and we cannot take a bath (The colored fellows are tickled to death) they sure like the Cooties, and we are still living in one story barrachs, it is just like putting your bed in the yard and going asleep, I wonder if little Peter would like that very much or Sister, what do you say about that Frank.
You mentioned about the Helmet well Frank old pal I am going to send one by mail tomorrow to you, and the gas mask I will bring home with me.
Things are slow over here, the boys all want to get home and so do I. Tell Mother she will receive a card regarding my health every one had to send them home, it was compulsory and not to mind it. Also tell Pop, that they mentioned about Larry Carrols death in the Paris papers, I was surprised to see the notice.
I am sure glad that all have recovered from that old Flue I had it a couple of times but I was too busy to notice it Frank this is the place for that stuff the hopsitals are filled.
I think that I will spend the winter over here it will not be long before I will get my gold stripe for six months overseas duty, we also get an insigna on shoulder it is, SOS that means help come quick, and it means that when the boys cried for food in the front lines we always answered and sent it to them we sure did some good work and nothing could stop us.
Frank that was some not Rose Catherine wrote to me I am just longing for a sight of her I bet she will be a regular lady when I get home, I sure have an aweful lot of stuff to tell you when I get home, yes, some of it is true.
You mentioned about a 1919 card Frank as soon as I go to town I will get some and send them to you how will that be and i want you to send me the Star I haven't had a Brooklyn paper in 6 months and I am tired of asking for it if you can't get the dough cop a few Magnesia bottles and if you get caught blame it on me you know me Buddie.
Well Frank I will have to close and i will write you in a couple of days. Give my love to Mother, Pa, Peter, Margaret, Rose Catherine, Madeline, Charlie, Rita, and little Charles he must be some boy now I am longing to veryone, Good Night old Pall. I am going to break in 4 new blankets tonight.
Love to everyone.
Your loving Uncle,
Frank
P.S.
I have your picture right on my desk besides Anna, Everyone wants to know if you are my son. In a few days I will send another picture I had taken.
GOOD NIGHT SLEEP TIGHT DONT MIND OF THE COOTIES BITE. FRANK.”
When I found this letter with the postcards, having not heard anything about this Uncle Frank before, I was practically giddy. I photocopied them and brought them to my grandma the next day. While she had, of course, heard of Uncle Frank, she had no idea that her father had kept these, so she was pretty excited too.
She said that Uncle Frank lost a leg during the war, and returned home with a wooden replacement. He didn’t let this dampen his sense of humor, however, and used to entertain the neighborhood kids by sitting on his front porch and sticking needles into his leg (with the pants on, the kids couldn’t tell that his leg was wooden, and were fascinated by someone who could so stoically stab themselves in the leg over and over).
To just round off the story of Frank’s life, it appears that FXR Sr.’s father didn’t really approve of him, and so Frank wasn’t really welcome in his house. Undeterred, Frank would simply wait until the man of the house was asleep, and would then climb in the second-story window to visit with his nieces and nephews.
So, here’s to Uncle Frank Doonan, who managed to transform the family tendency towards humorous fibs into an honored century-old tradition.
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