Tio

My uncle used to sing a song that went something like this, "I don't care if it rains or freezes, as long as I've got my plastic Jesus, sittin' on the dashboard of my car." I can't remember the rest of the words and I'm not sure if it was a stab at God or Catholics, but it was so blatantly sinful that I always got chills of pleasure/fear when he sang.
He was a wild one, my uncle, always out with different women, carousing the bars and honky-tonks, the epitome of an old country song. My mother always suspected that he read Playboy and thus, she didn't like us to go into his cramped, smoky apartment for fear that a magazine might be in plain sight. He ate vast quantities of food and always called my mother "Judy Blue," and she liked it, but would never, ever admit it. He was so different from the rest of the family that I couldn't help but think he was amazing. He kept Grandma Vera on her knees; praying urgently for his salvation, and then one day, just like that, he turned on to Jesus and settled down to be a deacon in his church. Life is funny like that.
Maybe he wanted Jesus all along, but didn't know how to find him. Laters.