Julian 'Jules' Pritchard, MSgt, USAF, Ret.

My Uncle Julian passed away this past weekend.  Mom's younger brother and the last of that clan, he was my favorite, and cousins teased, "You're Uncle J's favorite."  I don't believe he showed favoritism; I think their comment is because I've popped in and out of my uncle's life since I was a teen.  Our shared interests included traveling and military life, and I think he admired how I've managed to navigate and overcome tragedies Life keeps throwing my way.  "You're a survivor," yes I am. 

In 1973 I took my first overseas trip to West Berlin, where he and my aunt were stationed with the Air Force.  That's the summer I fell in love with Europe, traveling, escargot and men in uniform.

When Uncle J and Aunt Cathy stopped to say goodbye to Mom and our family in New Jersey prior to his deployment, his casual comment as they left, "Come visit us in Berlin,"  took hold in my brain; and so I became a waitress at Friendly's Ice Cream Parlor throughout my senior year; saved my pennies; got a passport; and shortly after throwing my cap in the air, Mom and Dad drove me to JFK, and my destiny.

It was pretty heady stuff for a 17-year old. The Wall was still up and it was unnerving to be driven around the city, always to be thwarted by a mass of concrete topped with barbed wire.  East Berlin looked so desolate, with the windows facing the West all boarded up.  Unfortunately, all my photos from that time are in storage, otherwise I'd show you some of what I saw that summer: Chateau D'if (think the Count of Monte Cristo), the Brandenburg Gate, Checkpoint Charlie and the spectacular water of the Mediterranean.

I stayed the entire summer.  My French/Greek aunt had siblings in France, so after Uncle J spent 2 weeks in the hospital with pneumonia, we drove to Marseilles for his 2 weeks of recuperation.  I learned to love escargot during that trip, when we stopped at a little corner French cafe along the way and they served up plate after plate of the yummy delicasies, a half-dozen for something like 25 cents.  The Dollar was really strong in those days. It kills me to order them now - only on very very special occasions will I stomach the prices.

My parents didn't drink but my aunt and uncle did, and so I was also introduced to a wide assortment of wines and liquor, including overdosing on Whiskey Sours during one of their raucous card-game nights with other military couples.  I passed out and didn't wake up for almost 24 hours, my aunt thought I was dead.  I've had a lifelong aversion to the fruity concoction ever since, but I did enjoy sharing a glass of straight Scoth with my uncle while he told story after story, relaying pieces of our family's history.  They gave me a small tape recorder for Christmas the year I parked in their driveway for 6 weeks, where I taped some of our conversations, but haven't had the heart to listen yet.

Unaware of the advantage of shopping in the Base Exchange, I went alone to the Kurfurstendamm via trolley in search of Hummels.  The image remains clear decades later:  walking into KaDeWe and seeing huge round tables covered with hundreds of Hummels, no display cases; just sitting on the tables.  I selected two, still back in storage.  It was quite an achievement for me, successfully navigating my way in a foreign country without speaking the language; one which would serve me well throughout my life.

Uncle Julian was tormented by his two older sisters in his youth.  One story retold with laughter (but not by my uncle) was when Mom and Aunt Barbara were forced to take their little brother to the cinema.  They pinched 'Jules' until he cried, then complained to my grandmother about the noise so they wouldn't have to take him again.  'Pinch, pinch, pinch!'  They all shared a wicked sense of humor, and the stories...

Mom flew out from 'Jersey to Oregon to stay with me in 1994 after Tino died, and we flew down to San Jose, where I deposited her while I took a separate trip to Hawaii to visit friends. Aunt B. came up from Southern CA and the three siblings spent over a week together, catching up and reliving memories. That was the last time they all met, so I'm glad they were able to do that.

Uncle J. enlisted in the Air Force in the 1950's or early 60's and loved the service life.  He and my aunt were staioned here and there until his retirement in the 1980's.  Following retirement they bought a home in San Jose, CA, where he went to work for the Postal Service until that retirement.  Aunt Cathy passed in 2018 (read Pound Cake Reflections) and he has missed her terribly.  Many times we spoke of 'marking time,' another sentiment we shared, but he no longer has to wait to meet my aunt.  I can't say I've spent many tears since I heard the news, because I know he's no longer in physical and mental distress, and is surrounded by loved ones.

My sister came to visit in 2019 and we drove down to see Uncle J in California.  It was great to spend time with him, and of course you never realize it's the LAST time you'll see someone.

Uncle Julian's influence on my life was greater than even he knew.  I grieve for my cousin's loss, George and Elaine, but know we'll all meet again at some point in time.  Love to you always, Uncle J.