Moehringer explains that, with his father’s physical and radio absence now permanent, he looked to his Uncle Charlie for a father figure. Uncle Charlie, who had alopecia, was not confident in his looks, but he was a talented and articulate storyteller with a love of words. The author shares that Uncle Charlie, a bartender at Dickens, regaled him with stories about his escapades with his bar friends, such as stealing pies and a truck, and burning down an empty police booth. He describes Uncle Charlie, a serial gambler, as generally morose and difficult to imagine having such raucous fun. Moehringer affectionately recalls spending time in his uncle’s room, pretending to be him, while Uncle Charlie was working at Dickens. After watching the movie Casablanca and noticing his uncle’s resemblance to Bogart, he began to dream of going to Dickens even more.

His grandmother encouraged him to not spend too much time in his Uncle Charlie’s room. Moehringer describes his grandmother as anxious with a wide array of specific fears that she openly relayed to him. While the author disliked his grandmother’s fearfulness and her tendency to teach him traditionally feminine skills such as ironing and needlepoint, he also sought out her company because “she was the kindest person in that house” (45).