Uncle Tim was my mom’s ‘little brother’, which I always thought was kind of funny because there was nothing little about him. Especially when I was a little kid, my uncle Tim was a towering and mysterious giant of a man. I didn’t know everything about him then, but I knew he worked in the woods. I also knew that he built stuff. All kinds of stuff, but especially masonry stuff. And could he swim? Wow. He and Gramma Arline would come visit us at Second Sand, and while gramma sat and visited with mom at the picnic table overlooking the beach, Uncle Tim would swim out, due north, so far that we could barely see him anymore. Once out there, he would just hang out and frolic in the cold Lake Superior water. For what seemed like hours. As a kid it blew me away, how strong and free and brave and mysterious he was. When I was an adult, whenever I got the chance to catch up with him, he was always kind, warm, and welcoming. He had a kind of quite charm that was unmistakable. Even though he will be missed by so many here, it is somewhat comforting to know that he is in a better place now. A place where he can swim out again, and just frolic and play in that crisp cool water. Maybe walk in familiar forests and know that he was, and will always be, loved. Safe travels, Uncle. -Frank