Uncle Rodney

“You don’t have to wonder if he’s being authentic”

The lone star tick, named after the single white star-shaped spot on the posterior, is a type of tick indigenous to the Eastern United States and Mexico. In some Midwestern states, it is also known as the ‘turkey tick’ because they are a common host for immature ticks—mature ones can often be found on white-tailed deer. Beyond the white spot, what makes the lone star tick stand out is the fact that receiving its bite could give someone alpha-gal syndrome, which is an allergy to meat. 

Three to eight hours after eating a perfectly cooked ribeye, a person with alpha-gal syndrome can experience symptoms including rash, hives, nausea or vomiting, difficulty breathing, a drop in blood pressure, dizziness, diarrhea, severe stomach pain, and possible anaphylaxis. 

The lone star tick has reportedly made its way to Michigan. 

And if one of those bad boys bit my Uncle Rodney, he’d be screwed. 

The only semi-vegetable-related things that he eats are potatoes, he doesn’t even enjoy fruit, and he wouldn’t take a bite of a banana if you paid him—I’ve tried. He’s strictly a meat, potatoes, and packaged food type of man. 

And that’s why I ordered five hundred lone star ticks off the Dark Web and sprinkled them in his underwear drawer, shoes, and truck. Uncle Rodney is coming over to the dark side of veganism whether he likes it or not. 

Kidding.

But I do think it’s hilarious that I’d never heard of the lone star tick until I was sitting on a sauna bench with my Uncle Rod. Somehow we got to talking about his diet—or maybe mine, and he brought up the mythical tick that can make someone allergic to meat. He also told me there was a phase when he was working on their house and would stay up until two or three in the morning, living off of twelve packs of Mountain Dew, Little Debbies, and chewing tobacco.

With a seemingly vitamin-free existence and never working out—“the only time you’ll find me running is if something is chasing me,” he once said—Uncle Rodney is somehow aging like an angel. He’s not overweight, hardly has a grey hair, and looks like the early-forties Yooper man he is—I always say his body should be studied in a lab.

Uncle Rod: a character and completely himself. A man who puts on airs for absolutely nobody. It’s refreshing; you know exactly what you’re going to get. 

He feels no obligation to attend the family graduation party or wedding if he’s not feeling it, and he’s not in the group chat with his siblings. There’s no drama or anything; Rodney just prefers to do his own thing. 

Ask the family, and they’ll tell you that he’s just always had his own rhythm. He has zero interest in appearances, flaunting anything, or keeping up with the Jones and rolls his eyes when people make decisions based solely on others’ perceptions. He doesn’t mince words or lie to protect your feelings, but he’s usually low-key joking and witty as hell. 

He’s young but has crotchety-old-man vibes—and will be an amazing crotchety old man someday. 

But don’t think he doesn’t have heart. He’s giving; he just would never flaunt it. He’ll be there at the drop of a hat if your furnace goes out, put up with his hippy nephew popping by and asking questions, and he’ll even go into the patchouli-smelling organic grocery store to get his older sister—my mother—a gift certificate for her birthday. 

His siblings and in-laws all love him. Everyone does. But he probably never wants or needs anyone to actually tell him that. 

In the words of the subtitle from my Uncle Jamey—his older brother, “You don’t have to wonder if he’s being authentic.”