My Uncle Joe was a waster.
He disappeared one day after an argument with his dad.
Never heard of again we all wondered what happened to Uncle Joe.
My dad would take me to the park to wander around among the hobos to see if Uncle Joe was there.
My dad died never knowing what happened to his brother. But we found him many years later, in the police records, a vagrant, a homeless thief and scoundrel. But despite all he was he was one of us and we celebrated his return.