Digging Up Story Bones

Recently I started looking into an old legend. You can read that post here. I ended up side tracked. I still intend to investigate further but right now I am temporarily distracted by the story of my family.

My daughter had to write a paper about something the happened in our family’s past that was relevant to history. So I told her an old family story that had been told to me. Then I began to wonder. What year did that happen anyway?

So I looked up my great-grandfather on line to see when he died and discover his first name wasn’t what I thought it was. He didn’t go by his first name. His parents were listed and I found out that my great-great-grandfather was named Napoleon. (Not that one.) That was intriguing enough that I dug deeper.

Before I realized it I had unburied bones and skeletons from the family closet left and right. One many times great grandsire was apparently a bit of a womanizer, judging by how he traded in wives. Another many times great grandame like one particular family so much that she picked a brother and just kept going down the list whenever she lost one.

It made me think about how much family history is lost. While reading up on local stories for my vampire legend, I came across tales I recalled hearing from my grandparents when I was a child. Now I am considering writing a book of tales myself. Rather than the usual way I go about making thing out of whole cloth, I will tell the tales I heard growing up.

I can put into print the story of how my uncle cut the tale off of my great-aunt’s cat. Or how my cousin used to chase me around our grandparents yard with the foot of a chicken, while the adults plucked the rest of the bird on the porch steps. Maybe even how my dad found a baby ground hog and brought it home one day. My mom had to feed it with a baby bottle until it got big enough for carrots and things.

There are a lot of stories. I bet my cousins have a few too. Maybe even some of the same ones from a different perspective.

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Published by: thecoffeefox

Once upon a time there was a woman who was a writer. She was either cursed or blessed from birth to be so and there was much debate on which it was. One day a very discouraging (and not very original) person told her not to give up her day job. The woman smiled and said that was a wonderful idea. Following the unwittingly clever advice of her critic, the woman found a job working nights, which left her days free to write. Even better, the night job had an unusual schedule which packed two weeks worth of work into one, so the writer was able to have every other week off to sit on her front porch, daydream, and of course write. However, working at night and writing during the day left little time for sleep, so the poor writer occasionally went a little mad, but she decided it was an acceptable price to pay to be able to continue following her curse-blessing. Also she likes tea. :)

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