It happened like this. My 92-year-old uncle — my mother’s younger brother — lives in Salinas, California. The last family I have from my parents’ generation. He, of course, is a big 49ers football fan. I am not.

We were texting back and forth about the upcoming Super Bowl. I happened to say I wanted to take the train one of these days and come see him. Soon after this I opened my email and found a nationwide offer from Amtrak for a free companion fare.

That decided me. I’d take my adult daughter — always eager to escape winter — and hit the rails. I’ve loved the train since I boarded that first one in Sandpoint five years ago, headed for Twin Cities. A California destination would be new country.

Uncle Bob, as he’s known, is not your average old guy. Still golfs once a week. He retired as a lieutenant colonel chaplain in the Army — and makes the occasional crosscountry flight to attend military events. He’s also an unrepentant jokester.

He sent me a message the Salinas City Council had passed an ordinance banning Seahawks fans from the city — but he’d attended a meeting and they would make an exception for me. However, I would need to praise the 49ers immediately upon my arrival and have it recorded by my uncle. He would then play the recording for the council in order to avoid a hefty property tax hike.

Not to be bested I wrote back that Hawks fans are known to migrate south in winter. That California has strict laws against interfering with migratory paths — and the council is facing exorbitant fines and possible jail time if they fail to welcome this migrating species.

This writing will appear as I’m on the return train home. We’ll see how these “tensions” play out. One thing there won’t be is anything but appreciation between my uncle and me. He is loved by everybody who knows him.

He brings cheer — and genuine caring — wherever he goes. Being of Norwegian descent he has a repertoire of predictable Ole and Lena jokes — but they’re worth it because he’s laughing before he finishes the punchline — that raspy gasp that makes you think he’s having a medical emergency.

I haven’t visited him in two-and-a-half years. That’s too long. I want to go see my mom in him — and hear his family stories, his memories, his wisdom, his faith and, yes, his jokes.

Let the Salinas City Council dare interfere. It ain’t happening.