See, I got me one o’ them Harvest Time birthdays, dropped smack dab plum dead on in the middle o’ All Hallows Eve and Thanksgivin’. It’ll be arrivin’ next week so get yer dancin’ shoes on.
Now, I’m not complainin’ much. Frankly, non a’tall. Fall time, smells of burnin’ bonfires, leaves colors a’blazin’ in a heated frenzy, ground freezin’ just a mite and crunchin’ underfoot come mornin’, sounds of birds fadin’ so they stand out all the more when they commence to chirpin’, all us fellers gettin’ our huntin’ gear cleaned and taut? Then Mama’s chocolate cake on a’top o’that? Don’t get much better, in my book.
That, and all us Goodwells, we have us a wingding to celebrate me just a’bein’ me, well, I ain’t got no complaints. Not a’one.
Somehow, this here time of year, bein’ my special day and all, is somehow tied to Grandpap’s “Great Moonshine Escape” story, what occured some time similar in our family’s recent history. And while I wudn’t even a glimmer in my Daddy’s eye, I reckon I’m Tale gets longer with each tellin’, but durned if I’m decomposed by Grandpap’s expansionary oration.
Tell you what. I’ll give it to you like he give it to us this partic’lar day in his very own words….don’t nobody spin a yarn like Grandpap.
He near always starts with a cackle.
“Hehehe, I tell you whut, it still resonates with me with ever’ recallin’. Me’n yer Daddy and yer Uncle Buck and yer Uncle Vernon, we was all fresh in from cuttin’ out some hogs fer the slaughter, still hain’t made it to the bootjack to scrape off our muddy boots.”
He near always sets sail the same way, too. ‘Course, any di-rection subsequent can lead to bewilderment, but we hang tight. Detours aside, we know what’s a’comin’.
And here it do come…..!