The Meteorite Uncle

“The fact that your father is a serious, straight-laced man who wouldn't dream of having an affair is a good thing for my sister, who chose him as her husband, but it's a bit of a shame for you.”
That was my uncle's favorite saying.
Since I was in high school, he would make me compare single malt whiskies, help me run away from home, and then, just when I thought I knew him, he would make me listen to classical music and lecture me endlessly on the differences between conductors.
He loved Philip Marlowe and would say that a boy has to be tough, even though he himself had a rather soft personality.

When I hit a wall and started skipping high school, he went directly to my mother to get permission for me to take time off, then sent me to work for three weeks without a single day off at a guesthouse on a remote island in Okinawa. He spent the whole time fishing and didn't take me anywhere.
When I told him it was unreasonable, he boasted that it takes a corresponding amount of impact to exterminate fear.

Strangely enough, the fear of people I had felt had vanished by the time I returned.

It has been two years since my uncle passed away, but I call him the Meteorite Uncle with respect, likening him to the meteorite that wiped out the dinosaurs.