Pulling an "Uncle Francis"

In the autumn of 1971, my husband and I moved back to Michigan from Colorado. While our real estate agent searched for a home we could afford, our lodging was the upper flat in a brick two-family home on Marlowe Street in Detroit. Aunt Marie and Uncle Francis rented the lower apartment. I was happy to be back in Michigan, and my aunt and uncle were happy to help finance our down payment. Everything went smoothly until one Sunday in December. What happened that morning has come to be known as “pulling an Uncle Francis.”

My uncle was a rather spoiled fellow known to the family as an uppity Boston Irishman. His roots were probably much the same as ours, but he envisioned himself as a dandy. Aunt Marie doted on him. In His wisdom, God did not bless them with children. My uncle’s nerves would never have survived the commotion offspring often bring. Unlike Dad who was apt to see the humorous side of things, Uncle Francis was more or less slave to his quick temper. Being in a snit came as naturally to him as breathing.

           

Anyway, for some unknown reason the paperboy failed to deliver the Sunday News to my uncle. Chuck and I popped in for our weekend Irish coffee and visit prior to going for a walk around the neighborhood. Uncle Francis requested a newspaper, and we promised to bring him one. What we didn’t realize was our commitment to the task involved a time limit. As we walked and laughed and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast at a restaurant on Grand River, Uncle Francis waited.

           

He watched the hands of his wristwatch crawl around the numbers. The longer he waited and watched, the more upset he became. Unknown to us, with each passing minute his anger increased until he was ready to explode. Chuck and I didn’t mean to upset the apple cart. We were simply a young couple out for our Sunday walk and a nice breakfast.

           

Eventually, we purchased a paper and headed home. By this time, smoke was billowing from uncle’s ears. Aunt Marie met us at the door and whisked away the newspaper. She appeared frantic. When we inquired if there was anything we could do to help, she told us we could vanish. Later that day she explained Uncle Francis had expected us to return with the paper, pronto. It never occurred to him we would be gone two hours. It never occurred to us to return in five minutes.

           

So, “pulling an Uncle Francis” means we lose patience if our request is not immediately satisfied. Feel free to use this expression as circumstances warrant.