Dad and Uncle Tom were brothers, but they couldn't have been more different. Dad was quiet, with hands calloused from the garden and a steady way of moving. Uncle Tom was like a whirlwind. He wore a sharp fedora, drove a shiny blue sedan that smelled like peppermint and expensive tobacco, and always had a joke ready to tell. When they were together, they turned back into boys, laughing about things that happened twenty years ago. The plan for the day was simple: we were going to the lake.
The number “63” in the keyword almost certainly refers to the year of writing. This was an era when children still wrote letters in cursive, submitted hand-drawn covers for stories, and were praised for detailed observation. Sheila Robins, at 11, was already a keen observer. a day with dad and uncle tom by sheila robins 11yo 63
As we were leaving the museum, Uncle Tom surprised us with ice cream cones. We walked around the city, licking our cones and enjoying the sunshine. I felt so happy to be with my dad and Uncle Tom. They're the best! Dad and Uncle Tom were brothers, but they