Uncle Max

Welcome to our first blog on the new site!

  This space will normally be reserved for Cake pics and fun wedding stuff. I hope to write about what we have cooking, what our friends in the industry are doing and assorted other random thoughts about who we are and what we do. This will be a “Politics and Religion” free zone. Think of this space like a Family Reunion with the crazy cousins who may or may not be armed, or a business meeting. There are plenty of bloggers who don’t think of their politics as politics. They just assume everyone feels the same. I know my biases, and will try to save you from them.

  But today I would like to tell you a story that crosses above-mentioned line.

  I have been thinking about my Uncle Max. Maybe its because I still have a little Christmas magic rolling around in my heart, or maybe its because he’s thinking about me too. Regardless, Uncle Max is on my mind.
  He was my favorite Uncle. He would have been yours too, if he were your Uncle. He is one of my first memories. He decorated the windows at the downtown LA Bullocks Department store, when there used to be a Bullocks Department store. So, he always had a garage full of treasures that you couldn’t find anywhere else. He also made my Halloween costumes every year. I was Superman four years in a row, but he didn’t mind. He always had time to play, and gave my sister and I the best presents every year. I loved him more than I loved my Superman costumes, and I loved them the best.
  Max wasn’t really my Uncle. Uncle Don was my Mom’s little brother, and Max lived with Uncle Don.  My Mom had another little brother who was like my Uncle Don. When I was five, he shot himself at our house. His name was Gerald, and he couldn’t accept his life, I was told. I don’t remember him, but I remember how his death hurt my Mom and my two Uncles.
  Uncle Max died when I was ten, in 1967. Times were changing a little, but I still didn’t tell my friends much about my Uncles. I understood their relationship by then, and I also understood that too much conversation about that subject was going to lead to fights on the playground. I wasn’t embarrassed, but I was protective of them.
  Today, we do cakes for many same sex ceremonies. Call them what you want. Go ahead and argue about it if you want. Reasonable people can disagree, but that doesn’t mean that one of them isn’t wrong. All I know for sure is that I would’ve liked to have been Uncle Max’s best man at his wedding to my Uncle Don.



Mr. Frostings
@mrfrostings