Good Evening STORYTIME fans! Tonight I have the great pleasure of launching a new series dedicated to other storytellers here a DailyKos. The new series will be known as STORYTIME PRESENTS. I have long wanted to encourage and showcase other writers here. Friday nights are a good time to decompress and have a gentle story to read and reflect upon.
Tonight, LynneK, is taking the helm with the debut of this series and I know you will make her feel as welcome as you have me these past months. Please join in the threads with your own tales and make this a merry evening.
Anyone else interested in telling a story can contact me at Cronesense AT aol DOT com. I would love to help you find an audience in this slot!
I come from a fairly large extended family...12 grandchildren on my mother's side, and 11 grandchildren on my father's side. I learned a lot about dealing with people from spending time with my various cousins, as well as from my brother and sister. I was the oldest child in my family and the oldest grandchild on my mother's side, so I always felt that more was expected of me than was expected of my younger siblings and cousins. I was the one my aunts trusted their new babies with, the one who dealt with the crabbiness of the toddlers, etc. I think my love of babies and children developed from helping my aunts take care of my younger cousins.
My brother is 2 years younger than me, and my sister 6 years younger. Growing up, I was closer to my brother than my sister, but, once we reached adulthood, that changed. I don't talk to my brother that often, and we rarely agree on anything, but my sister has become my best friend and confidante.
Growing up in my family was "interesting". My father was in the Army from the time I was born until I was about 8 or 9 years old, when he was discharged and took a job as a telecommunications engineer. Oddly enough, we moved as much when Daddy worked for the phone company as we did when he was in the Army. I rarely attended the same school for more than 2 years in a row, so I always felt that I was something of an "outsider". I found it hard to make friends, particularly when I realized that I would more than likely be leaving them soon, so I retreated more and more into my world of books, because I knew I could always count on my favorite characters to always be there. To this day, I still find it difficult to make friends, but, as I have lived in the same area now for over 12 years, it's beginning to be a little easier for me.
My brother is, was, and always will be, "the clown". He has a way of taking just about anything and turning it into something hilariously funny, even when he isn't trying to. For example, one evening, a friend of mine came over to our house after he got off work. When he pulled into our driveway, he accidentally stepped on the accelerator instead of the brake, and ended up with the front bumper of his car caught on the rear bumper of Momma's car. My brother immediately began making comments about cars with a "rear entry" option, and the benefits of automobiles that "did it doggie style". (He has something of a raunchy sense of humor, as well.)
He is also one of the most chauvanistic individuals on the face of the planet, though I'm not sure how he got that way. Momma was the dominant force in our family; Daddy never seemed to stand up to her, even when he should have. I often wonder if having a dominating mother made him convinced that he would always "rule the roost" in his own home.
For a long time, I thought that the "typical" guy was someone like my brother. I learned a lot about men growing up with my brother...mainly, that men were completely different from women. In fact, there were times when we were growing up that I often wondered if men and women were actually the same species.
Because my brother seemed to go out of his way to extract humor at my expense, I desperately wanted to find a way to give as good as I got. Then, one weekend, I got my wish...
Bubba, Bill and the Bobcat
Back in the "olden days" when I was a teenager, we lived in a small town in rural Alabama. Although our house was "in town", it was set on 2 acres of land, with woods behind it. One weekend, my cousin Bill was visiting us, and he and my brother, Wally (who my sister and I always called "Bubba") decided to go out "exploring" in the woods. My brother was about 13 or 14 at the time, and Bill is a year younger. Both boys were the real "macho" type and enjoyed trying to outdo one another at proving their "manliness".
So, they set out to explore the woods behind the house. Neither one of them being the type to think to mark a trail or to even think about the possibility of having to find their way home, they soon found themselves deep in the woods with nary a clue as to how far they had come, or which direction they needed to go to get back to the house.
As they stood in the middle of a clearing, debating which way they should go, they heard a rustling in the bushes a few feet away. Bubba said, "It's probably a squirrel or something, nothing to worry about." But the rustling got louder, and seemed to be coming closer. The boys looked at one another, neither one wanting to show fear, but they were both beginning to get nervous. The next sound did absolutely nothing to calm the situation down, let me tell you. Suddenly, from the bushes came a yowl which they said sounded like a cross between a moose in heat and the wail of a banshee (how either of them would know what either of these things sound like is beside the point at the moment.)
At this point, the two gave up all pretense of being manly and brave! Bill whispered, "Wally...I think that may be a...BOBCAT!" Bubba said, "Well, I heard somewhere that, if you bang sticks together and make a lot of noise, it scares them away." Without a moment's hesitation, they each grabbed a couple of large sticks and began beating them together with all their might, while screaming at the top of their lungs. Apparently, the screaming and sticks doesn't work the way Bubba had assumed they would, as the sound of whatever was in the bushes seemed to be getting ever closer. So, clutching their sticks and screaming, the pair began beating a hasty retreat in the direction they thought would lead back to the house.
After 30 minutes of running at top speed, and not seeming to be any nearer home, they began to panic. The sound of the pursuing beast wasn't helping them, either. At last, though, they came to the railroad tracks. Knowing that the tracks crossed the road just below our house, they decided to follow the tracks. Fortunately for them, they lucked out and followed the tracks in the direction they needed to go, and they finally managed to make it back home. When the came into the house, hot, dirty and out of breath, they told their tale and received a sound ribbing from my parents, who told them in no uncertain terms that there were no bobcats in the vicinity.
It just so happened that our high school's mascot was the Bobcat, and we had a stuffed one in the trophy case at school. Somehow, on Monday morning, the Varsity basketball team learned what had happened to my brother that weekend, and, as a joke, removed the bobcat from the case and situated it in Bubba's locker. When Bubba opened his locker that morning, the beast popped out of the locker and fell straight into his chest. He screamed and the basketball team had a good laugh. No one ever found out how the news got leaked to the team, though...maybe a "little birdie" told them.
If you have siblings, was there ever anything they did that you just thought was hysterically funny? Did they ever just jump up and down on your last good nerve? Tell us your story!