Every family has that one eccentric relative. Ours was Uncle Jerry, but the kids called him .
From then on, Uncle Pantyhose kept a spare pair in his glove compartment, right next to the duct tape and a half-eaten bag of beef jerky. He’d patch radiator hoses, splint bird wings, and once even made a sling for the neighbor’s dog. At Thanksgiving, he’d pass the mashed potatoes and say, “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it—pantyhose saved my life on I-95.” uncle pantyhose
We laughed. But when my shoelace broke before the wedding, guess who reached into his pocket and handed me a neatly coiled length of reinforced toe? Uncle Pantyhose. The man was a legend in cheap hosiery. Would you like a different tone—darker, funnier, or more poetic? Every family has that one eccentric relative
Not because he wore them—though he did, under his baggy hiking shorts on cold mornings. No, he earned the nickname the day he used a pair of mom's sheer tights to fix a broken fan belt on his rusty Ford Escort. “Nylon’s stronger than steel,” he’d grunt, tying a knot with nicotine-stained fingers. He’d patch radiator hoses, splint bird wings, and