My grandma and grandpa got married when they were teenagers in the early 1900s’. They lived in the rural mountains of North Carolina and were dirt poor. When I went to live with them, we were sitting on the front porch one day and my grandpa told me about the first time he and my grandma ever saw an automóbile (emphasis on the “mo.”)
They saw an automobile driving down the steep hill up from their house. They waited for it to get to the top of the hill but it never came. They went see what happened but it was nowhere. They never did know what happened to that car. There were no ditches it could slide into so it was just one of those mysterious things. It really did happen.
I did indeed wish that I could fly. My sisters used to call me “the ugly duckling.” When I was a teenager, my grandparents got their first television. In the morning, there was a show called “fractured fairy tales.” One of the tales was about the ugly duckling. It lived in a chicken coop and because it didn’t look like all the other chickens, it was made fun of and pecked at. Nobody would ever play with it. It went away and was able to make it on its own.
It grew up and one day, it flew over the chicken coop. An old peahen looked up and said “oh, how beautiful. Sometimes, I wish I had been born a swan.”
I remember clutching my hands to my chest, just as the old peahen did and making a silent wish….”I hope someday, I become a swan.”
There really was a Woolsey Dip where I grew up. I never rode my bicycle down though because I never had one.
My uncle was the one who told me that if I put salt on a birds’ tail, it couldn’t fly. I really did go out with salt and try it.
I never said “I love you.” I had great difficulty writing those words and when proofreading the post, I found that I couldn’t read them. I had to skip over them.
Oscar is the name I gave to Losers’ hooter.
I really was awakened by screams one night. I got up the next morning and ask my grandma if she heard it and she said “no.” She and my grandpa had both heard it but didn’t want to tell me.
Several days later, I found out that a young woman had been beaten to death down by the railroad tracks that ran right in front of our house. It was her screams that woke us up. It really happened.
They never caught her killer.
I’ve decided to leave it up to you to decide if my beloved “Old Joe” was a real person.