Uncle Artie was a strange fellow, but you just had to love him anyway.

And when I say strange, that’s just what I mean, all those synonyms fit perfectly for him: unusual, odd, peculiar, weird, uncanny, and queer. Yes, that last one had a double meaning, Uncle Artie had been married to Uncle Bob for many a year, until he died.

I’ll tell you, when I was newly orphaned and sent to ol’ Uncle Artie, I had no idea what to expect. My mother had hidden her brother from me all the first ten years of my life. Part of me understood why, but the other part of me learned to love him with my whole heart.

You see, Uncle Artie did not have eyes, a nose or mouth on his face. (Don’t worry, his ears were placed where they should be on the sides) And don’t worry again, he was not blind, mute, or senseless, these parts of him had been simply placed by Nature or God - whichever you believe in - on the back of his head.

Yes, he was one of the few people with eyes in the back of his head. And a nose and a mouth!

(It was also unfortunate for him, that he was the first one who smelled his release of flatulence from behind - I gave him the name Uncle Artie Farty after a lunch of burritos or an evening of bacon baked beans)

We always had a good laugh about that!

Now, since his head was on backwards - or at least his face - everything in his grand mansion ran in the opposite way. Not like an image reflected in a mirror, but everything was flipped backwards. That left me with being the one with the handicap, while he gracefully floated on tiptoes up the stairs and through the antique filled chambers and drawing room.

He wore fine silk suits that were buttoned in what we’d call the front, but he had the habit of wearing his bow ties not under his chin, but on the back of his neck, right under his mouth.

It was a bit screwy, wacky and cuckoo, sitting at the dining room table with the chair turned the wrong way and watching that polished silverware lift dainties to the back of a head and then through a well coiffured mop of hair, hearing the munch of teeth interspersed with polite conversation.

But when you’re ten-years-old, you can get used to anything. I did, and even learned to enjoy it. I felt unique and privileged living with such a fine example of humanity.

I loved my Uncle Artie and just wished I had also met my Uncle Bob. Uncle Artie told me that his face had had the correct proportions being on the ‘correct’ side (he cleared his throat when he said this and added, “According to the currently accepted norm”). It made cuddling in bed even better, since when they spooned their bodies they were always facing each other and could hear the happy beats of their hearts.

A true love story, I thought to myself, foreheaded and backheaded - two perfect bookends for life.

As I grew older there into my teens years, I adapted and became the coolest kid on the block. Halloween was perfect, Uncle Artie would answer the door with his blank face and from the back of his head he’d let out a hair muffled BOO! At first all the kids were terrified, but then they learned to love it - especially when there was a new kid on the block! They brought the poor soul to receive their first real scare!

We initiated them into a life of backwards and forwards, of diversity, and acceptance.

What a scream Uncle Artie could be.

Then the year came when I had graduated and packed my bags to go off to college. I could tell that Uncle Artie was dreading an empty nest.

But I had made a plan and searched through some dating sites. (The whole time I had lived there he had devoted his whole backward attention to me and nothing else, such a kind, curious man Uncle Artie was) And I had found a new possible partner, someone with a physical eccentricity and a name to match: Janus.

I wished them both well as I put my car in reverse, I drove backwards all the way to the college campus. A skill I had learned from Uncle and living with him.

I learned how to live life from all sides.