One of my favorite alt-weeklies posted an article today on the subject of uncles. More specifically, uncles and Thanksgiving. Its a collection of little stories, memories of specific uncles, good, bad, and ugly. The one titled "Uncle Jim" is my favorite.

The full article is here: http://www.thestranger.com/seattle/touched-by-an-uncle/Conte...

This is the section I suggest you scroll down to read: (and, among other things, today I'm giving thanks to author Kaley Davis and to The Stranger for publishing this)

Uncle Jim
When you take that step to fully accept your transsexuality, nobody tells you you've signed up to star in Adolescence II: Super Dorky Bonus Round. You have to re-learn how to walk, talk, groom, dress, work, socialize, and date. Lessons from the first time around are nontransferable. At 30, I felt 13.

One thing many adolescent women experience that I never anticipated was being the object of ambiguous, semi-sexual attention from male relatives. It happened to me just once. And though I was left with a slightly creepy aftertaste, it remains the most memorably delightful 30 seconds of my life.

My uncle Jim is my mother's sister's third husband. He's a typical Midwestern working man. He drives a semi coast to coast. I've only seen him in flannel shirts and a CAT hat. He's completely unlike my parents. They are slight, modest teetotalers who clam up when controversial topics are raised. Jim is huge, amiable, and outspoken.

Though we usually only met at Thanksgiving dinners, those memorable 30 seconds didn't happen at a family gathering. It was the weekend I flew home to finally come out to my parents.

I arrived late on a Friday night. Ahead of me, I sent a long explaining letter. My parents and I spent most of the weekend talking. They listened; they cried; they strained smiles. There was no yelling, no disowning, no damning. Just an overwhelming sense of embarrassed gloom.

By Sunday, I was drained and defeated. I was upstairs packing for my flight home when my aunt and uncle Jim showed up unexpectedly. I heard them arrive and froze. The weekend wasn't going well and I really just wanted to leave. But I couldn't avoid them.

With dread, I turned the corner down the stairs and saw them all at the foot. My parents' faces were gaunt, exhausted from the emotional marathon. But my uncle's eyes lit up when he saw me. I smiled, and he spoke.

"Wow! You look great!"

I was stunned. After 48 unpleasant hours with my parents, instant, warm approval came in four simple words. Flustered, I stammered out a sheepish "Thank you." He responded, "You definitely made the right choice!" Then, he turned to my ashen-faced mother and said, "You've got a beautiful daughter." All I could do was cry.

Later, on the plane, I relived the moment in my thoughts. Was that a sweet-yet-creepy adolescent encounter with my uncle? There's a great deal of resemblance between my aunt and me. We have the same frizzy shoulder-length hair and that distinctively ample, corn-fed Hoosier butt. Was Uncle Jim attracted to me because I looked like a taller, thinner version of his wife?

I've decided it doesn't matter. Today, my parents love and accept me. My brothers' families are cool. But nobody has offered the validation Uncle Jim did in that instant.

Thank you, Uncle Jim. KALEY DAVIS

I don't see the "creepy," "ambiguous, semi-sexual" effect that Kaley does. It just seemed like a nice, normal, familial gesture, to me, reading about it. But, it was her experience, and if that's how she wants to categorize it, so be it.