Everyone has a story. The one that makes your eyes light up when you tell it. The one that makes you wheeze with laughter before you get to the punchline. The one that makes you hold your breath until the end. The one that isn’t quite the truth. Some people have several. Some people have one good one they tell every time they see you. But we all have one.
In the past, these oral traditions were passed from generation to generation. They were modified slightly, but were recognizable. The very best became legends and myths. Now, though, many of these tales are lost with the passing of a generation.
This series is my attempt to capture some of the tradition of my family and those around me. I will try to make monthly updates, but no promises!
Clyde Powell was my great-great-uncle. Way back in the day, he bought himself a brand new truck, his pride and joy. To show his truck off to his buddies, he decided to load them and his dog up and drive down to the creek. One of his friends had the bright idea of bringing some TNT, because while they were down there they might as well do some dynamiting. It was all going well, everyone’s having a good time, when one of the guys decided to let the dog out of the truck.
Unfortunately, he had been teaching his pup to fetch sticks out of his pond. Clyde lit up the next stick, and chucked it into the water, followed shortly by a larger splash of the dog plunging in to retrieve the stick.
As the dog approached the shore, they start skedaddling, because he’s bringing the burning dynamite straight at them. They start running for the truck, and Clyde shouts to get away from his brand new truck! So they split up and run different directions.
The dog, confused by who to follow, decided to head back to the truck. And that’s the story of how Clyde lost a brand new truck and damn good dog on the same day.