Knowing someone great, someone devoted to the preservation of family traditions and gatherings, that’s someone you want to know; my family had the great honor of knowing such a man. Known to most as a friend, to many as a mentor, to three as a father, to five a brother, to one a grandfather, to one a husband, and to myself, my siblings, and our many, many cousins… our Uncle Goob.

Goober Sellers, now that’s a name. As kids, we saw him driving up our driveway on his Scooby Doo golf cart nearly every evening–Kelly and Savannah by his side and Dakota on his skateboard not far behind. Often times during this ritual, my brother Jeremiah would be eating at the dining room table, likely his second helping, and this could only mean one thing for my brother…

For those of you who knew Jeremiah as a kid, you knew what a complete germaphobe he was, and those of you who knew Uncle Goober, well, he was just that: a goober. He’d come moseying into his childhood home, which we then had the privilege of growing up in as well, with a smirk on his face and mischief in his eyes–he always had something up his sleeve for us kids. Typically on evenings such as this, he’d tease Miah with “monkey dust.” Sellers kids–you know this phrase as well as the day is long.

It is true that so much more life needed to happen before he left, but that won’t and couldn’t halt his presence in our future. He lives with all of us each time the radio plays Seven Spanish Angels or Somewhere Over the Rainbow, at every family oyster roast, each time we play White Elephant on Christmas Eve, each deep rooted chuckle following one of those silly jokes we know by heart, and at every fourth of July spent eating watermelon and watching fireworks at the pier on SSI. The traditions and memories he has planted have flourished into a garden that we will tend.

As long as I live, I will remember each time I departed from the Sellers home on Oak Bluff… Uncle Goober would shake my hand and say with that famous grin on his face, “Livia, I’m glad you got to see me,” and you know what Uncle Goober, I sure am glad I got to see you too, it was one of the greatest privileges. We love and miss you infinitely, and know we’ll be seeing you in the garden often.