Fred Rule

My second person in the series is closely related to the first. Fred Rule is the older brother of my father, Jim Rule. Whereas my father was known as 'the miniature quarterback' in central Kansas, small-town, high school football, Fred was known as the hulking linebacker that split his own helmet apart from striking an opposing player.

He has a voice to match, deep and gruff. The man speaks in meters of good ol' fashioned curse words and strangely-affectionate racial slurs. It's a voice that can make small children stumble and fall and question if they have done anything against the will of Fred in the past year. In his presence, my brother and I have cleaned our plates unto misery for fear of a rebuke for being wasteful.

He lives with his wife, Marlene (an ex-barrel racer from Montana or Wyoming--I can't remember which--that has a son who is a tip-of-the-top rodeo clown), a couple miles north of Elk City. They have a number of horses on their land. Fred is a veterinarian. About two years ago, he extracted a wicked cow disease (not 'mad cow'), because he put a knife--the knife with which he was carving open a cow to operate--in his mouth. He almost died.

He is notorious for hurting and consequently operating on himself. If I am not mistaken, he actually stitched up the back of his head on one occasion. He is also known to 'prescribe' animal medicine to those near and dear. I have had the good pleasure of receiving such aid. He has frequented rodeos--oft times as an official rodeo veterinarian--for a very long time. Many years back, he was approached at such a venue by a representative of Marlboro. He was considered a possible candidate to be the next Marlboro man. Supposedly, he was disqualified, because they thought his nose was too large.

You get the picture. Now, on with the story.

About two years ago when my wife and I were merely dating, she asked me if I had an uncle named Fred. I told her I did and asked as to why she asked. To our pleasant surprise, Fred had recently scheduled an appointment with my wife's father--an endodontist (specialized dentist of sorts)--on account of some tooth issue that would require the surgical know-how of an endodontist. I thought that the situation would be another way for me to relate to and conversate with Nicole's father.

A number of months passed, and I found out that Fred had cancelled his appointment. But what of the searing oral pain? Apparently, Fred had solved the problem himself with his veterinarian knowledge and a Dremel tool. A lasting impression of my bloodline for the soon-to-be in-laws.