 sj |
||
|
||
Stories From Home
|
|
|
|||||||
|
Stories From Home |
Share Thread
|
||||||
|
Subject: Stories From Home From: wysiwyg Date: 23 Jan 02 - 10:20 AM A couple of Mudcatters have sent me their reminiscences, word-sketches of home, or purely outright-made-up stories that give the sense of "home." You know, HOME-- that place in our hearts where our real home lies. I've helped with some copy-editing on a few, and I also edited my friend Jack Hart's memoirs of life in England as a child during WWII (and later as a young man in the army). Jack's gone now, and I've asked his widow to let me post them here, because they are very special and very funny. Anyway, so Jeep Man and I were *talking* about all this and we thought a thread for stories like that would be a good idea. He suggested I post one we've just worked on, and I will in short order. There aren't any rules for this thread-- I would just ask that you keep in mind, if you post yours, that people can find your story if they Net-search on a character name you use. So if you tell all of dear old Aunt Martha's innermost secrets-- well, she may or may not turn up here to see how you described her. So when I post mine, you will not find the true names of any parishioners! *G* I'd also like to suggest that maybe some of the stories will be ones you wrote and edited and refined in the past. Others will be created fresh, now, with little or no editing, inspired by the thread or the stories in it. For these, maybe some folks will want to do some editing before Áine adds them to the Mudcat Storyteller's Page-- maybe the thread will be sort of first-draft form. I dunno-- let's just see what happens. ~Susan |
|
Subject: DON'T GET OUT OF THE WAGON, BOYS! From: wysiwyg Date: 23 Jan 02 - 10:26 AM DON'T GET OUT OF THE WAGON, BOYS— WAIT'LL THEY CALL OFF THE DOGS When I was young and growing up, in these mountains, the old ways were a way of life. After church on Sunday, we'd go to a relative or friend's home for dinner, or they'd come to ours. (Dinner is the meal you eat in the middle of the day; supper is at end of the day.) Sunday dinner at Aunt Grace and Uncle Troy's home was always special to me, even though sometimes there was not enough room at the table and us kids had to wait till the grownups finished. (Jimmy Dickens wasn't the only one who had to wait). Aunt Grace and Uncle Troy lived their entire lives on Anderson Branch, off of Reems Creek. In those days, everyone had dogs. Coon dogs, bear dogs, rabbit dogs, or just a plain old Fiest. These various mixtures of canine persuasion usually could be found sleeping in the shade of the corncrib, spring house, barn, or, even more likely, under the porch. When not actually hunting, the rest of their time was spent eating, fighting each other, or treeing anyone who pulled into the yard. The car, truck, or wagon would be surrounded immediately by as many as twenty barking, howling, jumping and threatening defenders of the estate. Even if you were well known to them, it still took a while for them to calm down and shake off the joy of doing their appointed task. If you were unknown, you had little chance of getting down from your vehicle and going to the house. Even though most of them would not bite a biscuit, you were never sure, so you'd call the man of the house. 'Troy! Call off your dogs!' Usually about this time, Uncle Troy would appear from the house or barn and commence hollering at his dogs. Some of them (happily thinking Troy was coming to dispatch the intruders) would run to him, barking, wagging tails, and generally starting another commotion with Troy kicking and switching the dogs in an effort to shut them up. This would all send Aunt Grace's hens and pullets, which had been peacefully scratching about the yard, into a wild flight, full of wing-flapping and chicken chatter. Then Aunt Grace would holler from the house, 'Who's out there, Troy? Hush them dogs and tell them folks to come on in.' By this time the guinea hens up by the barn had added their squawks into the uproar, and one had to yell to be heard. The dogs, seeing that Troy meant business, would suddenly find an urgent need to make water on a back wheel or to scratch a bothersome itch. Uncle Troy always eventually quieted his pack, and 'Welcome's and 'Howdy's were exchanged. Then would follow, 'Come on in and set down to dinner,' answered by the standard, 'We didn't come to eat, Troy.' This always seemed silly to me, because to eat one of Aunt Grace's Sunday dinners was why we were there. Oh, I imagine the dogs would have settled down for my father; they were no killers. But nobody else had the right to kick or beat another man's dog-- feuds have been started for less. It was fine for Uncle Troy to kick and beat and swear at his dogs (if women were not present). But a man's dog was his pride, even though he was worthless, wouldn't hunt, and preferred chasing chickens better than coons. You kept your opinion to yourself, and left his dogs alone. And you know, it was a good way to live. So don't get out of the wagon, boys-- wait'll they call off the dogs. Jeep Man December, 1999 |
|
Subject: RE: Stories From Home From: Jeep man Date: 23 Jan 02 - 10:34 AM Thanks, Susan, for letting some of my stuff see the light of day. Maybe someone will get some enjoyment or cheer from it. Jim |
|
Subject: RE: Stories From Home From: wysiwyg Date: 23 Jan 02 - 10:35 AM Jeep, I wasn't sure if I should indicate that this is copyright, and if so that would mean using your real name at the end. Whaddaya think? ~S~ |
|
Subject: RE: Stories From Home From: Jeep man Date: 23 Jan 02 - 10:40 AM OK. Jim Ford |
|
Subject: RE: Stories From Home From: wysiwyg Date: 23 Jan 02 - 10:53 AM DON'T GET OUT OF THE WAGON, BOYS— WAIT'LL THEY CALL OFF THE DOGS, above, (C) 1999 Jim Ford. ~S~ |
|
Subject: RE: Stories From Home From: Jeep man Date: 23 Jan 02 - 02:27 PM I am really looking forward to reading other Catters Stories from Home. Also how can we set up an easy to find link to Mudcatter's Stories and tales.? JMAN |
|
Subject: RE: Stories From Home From: wysiwyg Date: 23 Jan 02 - 04:12 PM See QUICKLINKS box, top of page... go to: Áine's Songbook Page And from there, there is a link to the Storyteller section. ~S~
|
|
Subject: RE: Stories From Home From: wysiwyg Date: 01 Feb 02 - 09:47 AM refresh |
|
Subject: RE: Stories From Home From: little john cameron Date: 01 Feb 02 - 11:30 AM Great stuff guys.For aw' ye frustrated scribblers ah stertit a wee site for the likes o' ye.Ye don't hae tae dae them in Scots,whitever ye like.Here is ane o' mine. Weel, whit a nicht! Ah've never laughed sae much since mah Grannie fell aff her Pogo stick. By the time ah got tae the pub the place wis chokablock wi' "Artistes"fae aw' ower the neeborhood. Ye could hardly get in the door for tubas, squeeze boxes, geetars, moothies, even a big gowk wi' a kazoo. That wis jist the musical stuff. There wis also a mixture o' comics, a ventriloquist an' various funny dancers.
Anyway ah got started wi' mah wee contribution seein' as ah wis a "professional". Ah wis daen fine altho' naebody wis payin' much attention as the performers were aw' millin' aboot at the bar gettin' tanked up tae get their talents loosened up. Some o' them got a bit too loose an' fell aff the new deck that Sneck had built oot by the back door. Anyway ah felt ah had warmed them up enough when they started flingin' paper cups an' empty fag packets in mah direction.So ah took a bre'k an' went aboot gettin' names o' the contestants.
Jist then for a change o' pace ah decided tae get the ventriloquist up. He had the place spellbound!! Ye could hear a pin drap as he went through his patter wi' the dummy. Aw' hauns were mesmerised tryin' tae see his lips move. It wis amazin' no' even a twitch! The applause wis thunderous as he feenished. He had tae get back on as they were stampin' their feet an' shoutin' for mair. So he got back up for an' encore. Noo he had been on the stage for quite a while by this time an' it seemed tae me that the dummy wis gettin' tired as it wis talkin' slower an' slower aw' the time, an' it's voice wis gettin' lower. Folk were beginnin' tae smell a rat!!!
He nearly pulled it aff, the wee bugger, but we aw' had a braw laugh aboot it an' there wis nae hard feelin's.
Aye!! We like a good scam in oor wee toon. Ah'll tell ye mair anither time. Ah.m awa' for a pint. Slainte. |
|
Subject: RE: Stories From Home From: little john cameron Date: 01 Feb 02 - 11:36 AM If ye'se want tae contribute here's the addyclick |
| Share Thread: |
