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WHATEVER HAPPENED TO UNCLE OSCAR?

Part I

I would like to tell you what happened to my Uncle Oscar, or I

would rather try to understand it and explain it to you.

My Uncle Oscar was a very nice man.
Every morning on

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday he usually took the

seven forty-five (7.45) bus and started for work.
He went to the

bank early in the morning as he was an accountant (and by the

way, a very good one).
He worked hard all day long and returned

home rather late.
My uncle was forty-seven years old, married and

had two children.

His wife’ s name was Agatha.
Aunt Agatha was

fond of talking and always talked too much and in a very loud

voice.
That’ s why I think Uncle Oscar seldom had much to say.
Their

two children, Elizabeth and Julian, were not very pleasant.
Both of

them were large and loud like their mother.
And they were selfish

and greedy too.
They didn’t think about their father much.
He

was a little quiet man, who spoke little and went about unnoticed.

He liked music but didn’t play the piano, the violin, the flute or

any other musical instrument.
He practically never went to the theatre

or to the cinema and he didn’t visit exhibitions or museums

either.

Uncle Oscar didn’t go in for sports.
He was not fond of swimming,
skiing or playing golf.
You could never see him in the sitting

room in front of the television watching sports programmes.

Uncle Oscar never complained about his boring life.
I knew he had a hobby.

He had a very good collection of stamps and was happy only

when he worked on his stamp collection.
He was a real collector.
His

children took no interest in their father’s hobby.
But I, his nephew,
did.
Uncle Oscar showed me some stamps and explained that they

were really very expensive.

Then on the 14th of October 1951 Uncle Oscar got up as usual

at 6.45 (six forty-five), made his own breakfast (Aunt Agatha,
Elizabeth and Julian were still in bed;
they never got up before 8),
left the house and went to the bus stop.
Some people who were at

the bus stop that day didn’t see him at all.
The others were not so

sure.
They couldn’t say anything definite.
But that was the kind of

person Uncle Oscar was.
Other people seldom noticed him.
One thing

was certain: he never got to the bank that morning.

Part II

At about ten-thirty Aunt Agatha got a telephone call from

the bank.
“Where is your husband, Mrs Leighton?”
asked the

bank manager.

Aunt Agatha was very much surprised.
“Isn’t he in the

bank?”
she asked.
“No, he isn’t.
Wherever he is he is not certainly

in his office,” the bank manager answered.
“Nobody has

seen him yet.
We are going to have a meeting in a quarter of

an hour.
But unfortunately we can’t have it without your husband.

He has all the papers.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Aunt Agatha tried to be polite.

Well, that was it.
No news from Uncle Oscar.
Life went

on.
Elizabeth soon married and Julian got a good job as an

engineer.
Aunt Agatha took a job in the office and enjoyed

it.
She saw her children at weekends.
They seldom spoke about

Uncle Oscar.
They thought he was dead.
I think only one person

missed him — me.
We both had one hobby — collecting

stamps.
I often thought of my uncle and tried to guess where

he could be.

Three years passed.

And then one October afternoon a letter came.
It arrived

from Brazil.