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WHATEVER HAPPENED TO UNCLE OSCAR?
Part I
I would like to tell you what happened to my Uncle Oscar, or I
would rather try to understand it and explain it to you.
My Uncle Oscar was a very nice man.
Every morning on
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday he usually took the
seven forty-five (7.45) bus and started for work.
He went to the
bank early in the morning as he was an accountant (and by the
way, a very good one).
He worked hard all day long and returned
home rather late.
My uncle was forty-seven years old, married and
had two children.
His wife’ s name was Agatha.
Aunt Agatha was
fond of talking and always talked too much and in a very loud
voice.
That’ s why I think Uncle Oscar seldom had much to say.
Their
two children, Elizabeth and Julian, were not very pleasant.
Both of
them were large and loud like their mother.
And they were selfish
and greedy too.
They didn’t think about their father much.
He
was a little quiet man, who spoke little and went about unnoticed.
He liked music but didn’t play the piano, the violin, the flute or
any other musical instrument.
He practically never went to the theatre
or to the cinema and he didn’t visit exhibitions or museums
either.
Uncle Oscar didn’t go in for sports.
He was not fond of swimming,
skiing or playing golf.
You could never see him in the sitting
room in front of the television watching sports programmes.
Uncle Oscar never complained about his boring life.
I knew he had a hobby.
He had a very good collection of stamps and was happy only
when he worked on his stamp collection.
He was a real collector.
His
children took no interest in their father’s hobby.
But I, his nephew,
did.
Uncle Oscar showed me some stamps and explained that they
were really very expensive.
Then on the 14th of October 1951 Uncle Oscar got up as usual
at 6.45 (six forty-five), made his own breakfast (Aunt Agatha,
Elizabeth and Julian were still in bed;
they never got up before 8),
left the house and went to the bus stop.
Some people who were at
the bus stop that day didn’t see him at all.
The others were not so
sure.
They couldn’t say anything definite.
But that was the kind of
person Uncle Oscar was.
Other people seldom noticed him.
One thing
was certain: he never got to the bank that morning.
Part II
At about ten-thirty Aunt Agatha got a telephone call from
the bank.
“Where is your husband, Mrs Leighton?”
asked the
bank manager.
Aunt Agatha was very much surprised.
“Isn’t he in the
bank?”
she asked.
“No, he isn’t.
Wherever he is he is not certainly
in his office,” the bank manager answered.
“Nobody has
seen him yet.
We are going to have a meeting in a quarter of
an hour.
But unfortunately we can’t have it without your husband.
He has all the papers.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Aunt Agatha tried to be polite.
Well, that was it.
No news from Uncle Oscar.
Life went
on.
Elizabeth soon married and Julian got a good job as an
engineer.
Aunt Agatha took a job in the office and enjoyed
it.
She saw her children at weekends.
They seldom spoke about
Uncle Oscar.
They thought he was dead.
I think only one person
missed him — me.
We both had one hobby — collecting
stamps.
I often thought of my uncle and tried to guess where
he could be.
Three years passed.
And then one October afternoon a letter came.
It arrived
from Brazil.
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