My Uncle Leslie

Uncle Les is my mother’s youngest brother. He lived with us for a long time on the farm. He owned a grain mill. This mill ground the oats, corn, and wheat into a flour and farmers would pay him to do that. I can kind of remember that the grinder had different plates for the coarseness that the farmer wanted. I thought you might be interested in what the mill looked like. I have no pictures of Uncle Les’s but after much searching on the internet I found only one picture. The picture I am going to show you is not exactly like my uncle’s. The grain would go up an elevator and into the grinder and then come out as flour or cracked corn, etc.
My uncle was always in high demand for his grinding. Mom was his secretary and made appointments for him with the farmers. I never heard him complain to her so she must have allowed enough time for him to grind the grain and for travel time.
Uncle Les was a well liked man. He was the only Banister that I knew that actually had a sense of humor. He has laugh lines around his eyes like my Great Grandfather Hayes. Les is not tall like his brothers were, but his smile makes him seem like he is. He chuckles a lot and loves to tease me.
I remember one time that Uncle Les stopped for a beer one hot summer afternoon. Oh, my mother was not a happy camper. I believe that was the only time I heard Uncle Les snap at mom and she never said a word to him about drinking beer after that. (I have a feeling that he did stop again, however.)
My Uncle is in his mid nineties and now lives in a nursing home. He seems to like it there. He teases the girls that work there and they all like him. His memory seems to be pretty darn good, but he is a little unsteady on his feet, so he is there for his own safety. My mother always wanted to live to be a hundred, Uncle Les just might make it.
The next story about Uncle Les will be about the romance in his life. Talk to you soon.