Moon Through Blue Bottles

Cold moon, blue through the bottles dangling in the ash tree as the Wolf Moon--or Moon After Yule or Old Moon, same moon different names--beams white through bare branches.

Here on earth the fire burns white-hot

 and smoke and embers reach for the faraway stars.

Here's a story for you, about the wolf and the moon:

HOW THE WOLF LOST HIS TAIL

Own day the wolf and the fox were out together, and they stole a dish of a creamy cheese called crowdie. The wolf was the bigger of the two beasts, and in those days he had a long, long tail, a beautiful tail to be sure, and his teeth were long and and sharp.


The fox was more than a little afraid of the wolf, so he said nothing when the wolf ate almost all of the crowdie, leaving just a dab for the fox to lick out of the bottom of the bowl. The fox was angry and he decided to get back at the wolf on the very next night they went out together.

There was a full moon the next time the wolf and fox prowled together. "I smell a very nice cheese," said the fox. There it is. Do you see it?" And he pointed to the moonlight shining on the ice.

"How can we get it?" asked the wolf, licking his lips.

"Here is my plan. You stay here. I will see if the farmer is asleep. Keep your tail on top of the cheese so no one else can see it. Can you do that? I might be gone for a long while."

"Don't be silly! Of course I can do it!" snarled the wolf. And he put his tail on top of the moon's reflection in the ice and held it there for an hour or more. You know what happened, don't you? His tail froze to the ice!

The fox waited until he was sure the wolf's tail was stuck fast to the ice. Then he hurried to the farmer's house and cried, "Look up there! There is the wolf! He is coming to eat you and your children!"

The farmer and his wife ran out of the house with large sticks to kill the wolf, but the wolf saw them coming. He tried to get up but found his tai lwas stuck tight to the ice. He gave a great jerk and ran off, leaving his beautiful tail behind.

That is why to this day the fox has a full bushy tail, but the wolf? Well, now you know why his tail looks as it does.

Based on the story from Scottish Fairy and Folk Tales, by George Douglas,c 1901, and reprinted at www.sacred-texts.com. 

About wolves in Scotland: today there are no wolves in Scotland, and there have not been for centuries. Tales of wolves are noted in writings such as the story above, and there is currently some discussion about reintroducing them in the highlands.For more about the history of wolves in Scotland, check out these links:

For an academic look at the wolf in Scottish legend and lore, "A Noxious Pack" is a  fine read.

Wolf's Tale  from the website Wolves and Humans gives great background information, clips of writings about wolves and a photo found in Scotland of a rock carving of a wolf.

To learn about re-introducing wolves to Scotland, read another page from Wolves and Humans and this article by the BBC.

 
 

The Recipe

A friend told this to me, and since everyone is talking about Christmas recipes, I thought it was worth sharing.

A woman bought a large ham at the butcher shop. As she was walking home she passed a friend's house. The most delicious smell wafted out the friend's door, and the woman stopped to enjoy the wonderful aroma. Her friend saw the woman and came outside to say hello.

"What are you cooking?" the woman asked. "It smells so good I had to stop just to enjoy it."

"Oh," said the friend. I am making my favorite recipe, ham with pineapple and cider. My grandmother is coming for dinner and I wanted to offer our best food for dinner. Would you like me to write down the recipe for you?"

"Indeed I would!" exclaimed the woman, delighted. Now she too would have wonderful smells coming from her house, and a special treat for her husband's dinner.

The friend quickly wrote out the recipe and handed it to the woman, who thanked her and continued along her way home. As she walked, she studied the recipe. She was not watching where she put her feet, and she tripped over a large root in the path. The ham she was carrying flew from her hands and landed some distance away. A dog ran up, grabbed the ham, and ran off with it.

The woman got to her feet and shook her fist at the retreating dog.

"That ham won't do you a bit of good!" she yelled.

She held the slip of paper up in the air. "I've still got the recipe!"

I thought this story sounded familiar. A quick online search revealed that this is actually based on one of the stories of Nasruddin, the Turkish wise fool. How intriguing to find it still living today, and just as funny now as it was in Nasruddin the Hodja's time.

Good Ol' Aesop: The Rabbit With Many Friends

I found this little story in my files. I adapted it from Aesop for a participation story. It's easy to tell with children because of the repetition.

Once in the days before we were born, there lived a Rabbit was very popular with the other animals. All of them claimed to be her friend. One day she heard dogs running and barking and she was afraid.

“My friends will help me escape!” she thought. She hurried up to the horse.
“Please carry me on your back, away from these ferocious dogs!”

But the horse said, “I am very busy. You have so many friends, one of them will surely help.”

The rabbit ran to the bull. “Please chase away these terrible dogs with your big, sharp horns.”

The bull replied, “I am very busy. You have so many friends, one of them will surely help.”

Poor Rabbit! She ran as fast as she could to the goat.

“Please goat, you have good horns. Chase these dogs away for me!”

The goat said, “I am very busy. You have so many friends, one of them will surely help.”

The terrified Rabbit scurried to the ram, who was grazing with the other sheep. “Ram, please help me! Those dogs will eat me!”

The ram thought about it, but he knew that dogs sometimes ate sheep as well as rabbits. He said, “I am very busy. You have so many friends, one of them will surely help.”

The Rabbit ran to her last friend, the baby calf. "Please help me, calf!"

The calf thought, “I am so small, and if those bigger animals could not help, how can I?” So he said, “I am very busy. You have so many friends, one of them will surely help.”

By this time the hounds were very close near. Rabbit cried,
“Sometimes having many friends is worse than having no friends at all!”

And she took off running as fast as she could, popped into her rabbit hole and escaped—all by herself.

How Dragonflies Came to Be: from Batsy Bybell

Batsy Bybell and me in Idaho in 2004.

Several readers asked about a story I mentioned in a previous post, How Dragonflies Came to Be. I contacted my friend and fellow storyteller Batsy Bybell of Idaho to see if she would be willing to post the story on my blog. Batsy not only agreed, she added the story of how she came by this tale--and it's a fascinating story in itself. I've included her message, and her version of the story, below. Many thanks, Batsy!

Hi Granny Sue,

Back in 1997, my daughter Tanya and I were telling stories around a campfire for a group of students from WSU. Most of them were from other countries and had never camped before. The whole experience of pitching a tent, cooking hot dogs over a fire, and roasting marshmallows was a novel delight for many of the international families.

As we were packing up to leave, one family from Rumania started talking about traditional stories. The father wanted to tell me a story that he was sure I had never heard before. Everyone, including the mother and both children, chimed in with another detail on how the separate parts of the dragonfly were taken from other animals and combined into an entirely new creation.

He was right because I have been searching since that time for another version of this charming folk tale and never found anything quite like it. This is my version. The father also told me to take the story and tell it, which I have been doing.

Batsy


Not Quite Right
A Folktale from Rumania

as told by Batsy Bybell


Back in the beginning, when the world was still new and smelled fresh, the Creator was taking a well-deserved rest. He leaned back under a tall tree and noticed that everything he saw was beautiful. He was pleased with his work.

But back then, even as now, there were some individuals who were never happy with how they looked. The Creator had closed his eyes to catch a quick nap, but he could feel someone staring at him. You know what it's like when that happens. You feel the tickle of a gaze that will not go away. He opened his eyes to see a green frog that had hopped out of the water to
land by his foot.

"Creator, we have a problem. Something's not quite right. I mean, look at me, I look like a bug with these huge, faceted pop-eyes. If I had smaller ones, then everything would be perfect."

The Creator leaned over to pick up the frog. "I gave you large eyes so you could easily catch your dinner. That's what you said you wanted. But I'll change them if you want." He gave the frog new eyes but kept the old ones in his palm. Spying a fly, the frog quickly hopped back into the water with a loud splash.

A butterfly had been resting on a leaf, listening to the exchange. She opened her delicate wings and glided down onto the Creator's arm.

"I adore my colorful wings, I can dance with the slightest breeze. But my body's not quite right. It's too long and skinny, I look like a stick! Everyone calls me bean pole. If it wouldn't be asking too much, could you break off half my body?"

The Creator chuckled at her vanity but gently squeezed off the lower end of her straight abdomen. He placed that in his palm, too, as the butterfly skimmed away. He closed his eyes in peace but suddenly felt a gentle tickling on the nose. A spider was sliding down a filament of silk, swaying back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. The Creator was getting dizzy, so he reached up a hand.

The spider stamped his legs and glared. "I know I said I wanted to be unique from all the other insects, but this is not quite right. What am I supposed to do with fourteen legs? I can't keep it straight which ones go in front and which in back. I keep tripping over the tangle. Tell you what, let's make a bargain. I'll keep eight of them and you take the rest back. Do we have a deal?"

"Yes, it's a deal," the Creator grinned. "I'll pinch off six of your slender legs. See how you manage with only eight." He placed the extra legs in his palm as the spider climbed more rapidly back up the silk into the leaves.

"I wonder if that's the end of the complaints," He sighed, but just then a bee zoomed around his nose. ZZZZZZZ. "Yes, do you want something, gatherer of honey?"

"Bzzz, yessss. Thesssse wingsss are not quite right. I get sssstuck."

"I gave you ones that were long and gauzy so you could be the fastest flier around. That's what you said you wanted. It's not my fault you're so greedy that you dive headfirst into flowers and can't back out." ZZZZZ, the bee buzzed more angrily.

"Stop. I'll give you short stubby wings. Will that work?"

The Creator gently pinched off the torn ones and replaced them. The satisfied bee zoomed back into the air and dove for the nearest snapdragon. The Creator placed the rejects in his palm.

"Surely that's enough changes for today," He yawned, ready to resume his nap. But no, there was a shy lizard lurking under a leaf. She inched out to stare but didn't say anything.

"Yes, little one. What do you want?"

The lizard stammered, "I know I asked to be brilliant and to shine in the sunlight. But it's not quite right. Everyone who sees me thinks I'm dinner. They try to EAT me. I don't want to be bright red or blue anymore. Please, could you change me to a color that blends with the leaves?"

"Having you get eaten wasn't part of my plans for you. I'll switch your colors. Would you prefer green or brown?"

"I don't know, you decide."

Laughing out loud, the Creator plucked the iridescent colors from her back and held them in his palm. When he glanced down, the lizard was safely hiding. He looked at his palm and pondered, "What should I do with these?" Now he could toss them over his shoulder, but that would be wasteful. Not even the Creator wanted to do that. He stared at the faceted eyes, the stick body, the slender legs, the gauze wings, and the bright colors.

Yes. Gently blowing into his cupped hands, he smiled as he fashioned one last creature.

When his palms opened, there stood a dragonfly. And she was beautiful, as all of his creations are.

And so it was and so it is.


You can visit Batsy's profile online at http://www.storyteller.net/

The Man Who Forgot His Feet

John was selected to be a judge for the town's annual Liars Contest.

"This is an important occasion," John thought. "I must dress appropriately to be a judge."

He checked his closet. His funeral suit was in good condition. He was saving it for his own funeral, but for this one day, he thought, he could wear it. "This is even more important than my funeral," John told his wife.

Shoes were a problem. He pulled out the one pair of dress shoes he'd ever owned, bought for him by his mother for his high school graduation. The shoes were covered in dust but still looked new. He'd only worn them one time, after all. He had been saving them to go with the funeral suit.

He slipped his foot into one shoe and discovered that he had a problem: his foot had grown at least an inch since graduation.

"Of course it has!" said his wife. "You were twenty years younger when you graduated! We'll have to give those shoes away."

"Oh no," replied John. "I can still wear them for my funeral. It won't matter to me then if the shoes are too tight!"

He continued, "But I need a pair for the contest. A judge can't show up in work boots! I need a new pair." He sighed. Shopping was not high on his list of ways to spend his time. Then he had an idea--his wife could go! She loved to shop.

John found a ruler and carefully measured his foot, both the width and the length. He wrote the measurements on a piece of paper and handed it to his wife.

"Here. Run down to the shoe store and get me a pair of good black shoes," he ordered.

"I can't go. Don't you remember that I start my new job this afternoon? You'll have to go yourself." She handed the paper back to John.

There was nothing for it but he would have to go. John slicked back his hair and headed out.

As he walked to the shoe store, he met many neighbors who wanted to talk to him about his important role as judge of the liars' contest. "You're a natural for the post," one man said. "Why anyone who tell lies like you do would know in a minute if a lie was a good 'un or not."

John swelled with pride. "Indeed," he said, "I am an accomplished liar. My wife never believes a word I say, even when it's the truth I'm speaking. She says I must be conserving truth because it's such a rarity in our house, and that I've told so many little white lies I've gotten color-blind. I tell her that although I am an exceptionally good liar, I always tell the truth."

Making his way down the street, John grandly bowed his head to all who called out congratulations. When he got to the shoe store, he stepped up to the counter and said, "I have come, dear man, to purchase a pair of shoes for a most auspicious occasion." (John liked to use big words when he was feeling important.)

"Very good," said the shopkeeper. "What size do you need?"

John reached in his pocket for the paper with his foot measurements. The paper was not there. Frantically he searched all his pockets. No paper.

"Blast!" he cried. " I must return home to get the paper. I don't remember what the measurements were. I shall return as quickly as possible."

As John hurried up the street, he bumped into a friend. Of course the friend wanted to talk about John's upcoming position as judge of the contest, and John obliged by sharing all the details of his appointment. "The mayor himself chose me," said John. "He said it takes one to know one. I always say that reality is tough enough without adding truth to it."

John finally reached his home and found the paper with the measurements. He ran back to the shoe store--but it was closed!

There was nothing he could do about it except return home without a new pair of shoes. He walked slowly up the street with his head down.

"Hey John!' called a neighbor. "Why so sad? A man with such a special job to do should be feeling fine!"

"Oh my," said John. "I needed a new pair of shoes to be the judge--a judge must be dressed properly, you know. But I left my measurements at home on my first trip to the store and had to go back and get them. And when I returned, the store was closed! Now I have no new shoes. I'll have to wear my old boots, I suppose. This is just terrible."

The neighbor was puzzled. "Who did you say you were buying the shoes for?" he asked.

"Myself, of course! Who else would I buy shoes for when I am the one who needs them?"

"But you had your feet with you the entire time! Why didn't you just try the shoes on and find a pair to fit?"

John looked at his neighbor a long time, and then down at his feet. Without another word he stepped into his house and closed the door.

The important judge of the liars' contest wore work boots with his funeral suit to the contest. Every now and then he would look down at his feet, as if to be sure they were still with him. He didn't want to forget he had them again!

This is my retelling of a Chinese fable. Some days we overlook the most basic things. But although I occasionally lose my head, I have yet to misplace my feet!

For other sources of this story, go to:

The Storyteller Online
Chinese Culture

The Boastful Turtle

There was once a turtle who talked all the time. He talked mostly about himself. The other creatures of the earth avoided him as much as possible. Who wants to listen to a braggart?

One day the turtle saw a goose flying above him.

“How I would love to fly,” he said, “like the geese. It must be wonderful to be up so high and see the world from that height.”

He could think of nothing else but flying. At last he met a goose on the ground and he hurried (as fast as he could-he was a turtle, after all) over to her and said, "Teach me how to fly."

"You're a turtle! Anyway, I can’t right now," the goose answered. "My flock is migrating for the summer and I must join them."

"I want to fly!" the turtle cried. "I want to fly HIGH!"

"We’ll have to ask my flock," the gentle goose said.

You know what the flock said.

“Turtles can’t fly,” one goose said. "Whoever heard of a flying turtle!" another goose laughed.

"I want to fly!" the turtle cried. "I want to fly HIGH!"

“We can’t carry you. You have no wings, so how can you fly? asked the largest goose.

"I want to fly!" the turtle cried. "I want to fly HIGH!"

The geese got so tired of his pestering that they came up with a plan. The geese decided that if two of them would hold a stick in their bills, the turtle could bit onto the stick and they could carry him with them, up into the air.

"Remember, you must not open your mouth while we are flying!" they reminded the turtle. The geese flew up into the air their strong wings.

"I am flying!" the turtle thought to himself. "Down on the ground I can see everyone looking at me. How wonderful this is! How wonderful I am!"

He opened his mouth to tell the geese to fly higher still.

"I want to fly!" the turtle cried. " I want to fly HIGH!"

And so of course his mouth came off the stick, and he fell down, down, down to the earth. His beautiful shell cracked all over. He crawled away into the mud at the edge of a pond in embarrassment, and there he stayed until his poor shell healed. But to this day, turtle has a cracked shell, and he has never tried to fly again. And he has never tried to speak again either!

Attributed to several cultures, including East Indian and Tagalog. Versions in the Jataka Tales and the Panchatantra, along with many other story collections. Adapted by Granny Sue

Good Ol' Aesop: Mice in Council

My favorite collection of Aesop's fables are in an old, old book, so old there's no copyright date and the price written inside the cover in pencil is 12 1/2--is that cents? It's falling apart, I'm afraid, and I must handle it very carefully. But there is something special about reading the stories from old yellow pages, the spine stitching clearly visible on each page.

(Illustration from Joseph Jacob's collection of Aesop fables, illustrated by Richard Heighway, 1894)

This story is one of my favorites. I've edited to update the language, but the moral remains the same:

Once upon a time, the Mice were terribly persecuted by a Cat. A meeting was called to search for a resolution to the problem, and to decide on the best method of getting rid of the continuing annoyance.

Many plans were discussed and rejected. Finally a young Mouse stood up and spoke.

"I propose," he said, looking around to be sure he had everyone's attention, "I propose that a Bell be hung around the Cat's neck. A Bell would give us warning of the Cat's approach, and we will be able to escape." He sat down, feeling very pleased with himself for his wonderful idea.

The other Mice were impressed. To be so young and yet so wise! They agreed unanimously that this was the best solution to the problem.

An old Mouse had been sitting quietly, listening to the discussion. When the applause that followed the young Mouse's idea had died down, he stood up stiffly.

"It is a most excellent idea," he said slowly. "I am sure it will be very successful. We will always be able to hear the Cat's approach. I have only one question:

"Who will bell the Cat?"

No one had an answer to that.

(from the Jacob's book)

Some sources of Aesop Fables online:

Aesopica

Joseph Jacob's Aesop

Aesop's Fables from UMass

Apparently he also went to MIT

And the University of Virginia

One Minute Story: Dozing

Jimmy (name changed to protect the guilty) knew all about heavy equipment. So when the gas drilling company left a dozer on his land, Jimmy knew exactly how to start it.

That's what he did. He started up the dozer and did a lot of work he'd been wanting to do on his place. He parked the dozer in the exact place he'd found it, and even refilled the diesel tank. The drilling company would never know that their equipment had been used.

Imagine Jimmy's surprise when he received his "land disturbance" payment from the drilling company. The cost of 10 hours of dozer work was deducted from his payment!

It seems that dozers have a meter (like the one on our farm tractor) that measure how many hours the equipment has been run. Jimmy didn't think the drilling company would check.

Surprise! Instead of being smart, Jimmy was out-smarted.

Fire! A One-Minute Story

It was embarrassing. John could look out his window and see smoke rising from his neighbor's chimneys, and smell the good cooking smells coming from their kitchens. But every morning it was the same thing at his house--no fire in the stove, no breakfast cooking. His wife stayed in bed until almost mid-day, and he went hungry and cold. (Of course, he could have fixed the fire and made his own breakfast, but he never thought of doing it!)

One morning John sat in the kitchen, thinking about how good it would be to have some sausage for breakfast. But his wife was still asleep. Then he had an idea.

Running out the door, he shouted, "Fire! Fire! Fire!"

His shouts woke his wife, who ran downstairs screaming, "Where? Where is the fire?"

"In everyone's kitchen but ours," John said.

A variation on an English tale.

Finding the New Moon

Once there was a man who could not find the new moon in the sky, no matter how hard he tried. He spent hours standing in a field, staring upward at the heavens. People tried to help him, but it was no use.

"Look!" shouted a friend in frustration. "It's right there! Can you not see it?"

"No, I do not see it." The man shook his head sadly. "I see no new moon. Only the same old moon that has been up there for years and years."

One Minute Story: Nasruddin and the Two Beggars

As I dropped some coins into the kettle of the Salvation Army bell-ringer today, I was reminded me of this story about that logically illogical fellow, Nasruddin, and the time he gave coins to two beggars.

If you're not familiar with the Nasruddin stories, you've missed some funny and strange tales. These old stories have layers of meaning, while often provoking out-loud laughter by their incongruity.

Nasruddin is usually referred to as a "wise fool." I suppose that's an apt description, although he usually seems more wise in his stories than foolish. Nasruddin is a Persian storytelling character who appears in stories as far back as the 13th century. He is also referred to as the Hodja, or Mullah Nasruddin, and his name has several variant spellings.

Coming from the Middle East, these stories are a reminder of other aspects of a culture that we sometimes forget is more than what we hear on the news.

Here is the story:

Nasruddin and the Two Beggars (Middle East)

Nasruddin was walking down the street when he saw a beggar asking for money. Nasruddin asked him:

Are you extravagant? Oh yes, said the beggar.

Do you like to sit around and drink coffee? Yes, said the beggar.

Do you like to go to the baths every day? Oh yes, said the beggar.

And do you like to amuse yourself by going out with your friends, perhaps to dinner?

Yes, I like to do all those things, said the beggar.

Well, said Nasruddin, and gave the beggar a gold piece.

He met another beggar and asked the same questions. The second beggar answered no to all of them. Nasruddin gave him a small copper coin.

The second beggar asked, why do you give me so little when you gave that other fellow so much?

Ah my friend, replied Nasruddin, his needs are greater than yours.

Read more about the Hodja at http://www.nasruddin.org/ and on Wikipedia. Some very short stories are available here, and more information and stories have been put online by the University of Pittsburgh on this site.

Using Puppets to Tell Stories

A story leads the listener into an imaginary world, peopled by the imagination and the storyteller’s words. So why intrude into this world with puppets and other props? It's a good question, and there are several good answers. As a teller who likes to use puppets sometimes when tleling stories with children, I've found that puppets add a new dimension to some stories, and can provide an avenue for dramatic play if I incorporate audience members into the telling, as I often do.

There are other reasons for using puppets. Learning occurs in many ways. Some people are auditory learners, some are sensory, others are kinesthetic/tactile. In an audience of three children, a storyteller may face three discrete learning styles.

Puppets are visually attractive; they can move, speak or act, reaching each child’s individual learning style. A puppet varies the mental stimulus, thereby keeping attention focused for longer periods of time. A puppet can demonstrate an emotion that might not be clear to a child in the story's text, and can act out words that are beyond vocabulary levels of young audiences. Puppets also:

1. Give color, texture and dimension to story characters and actions.

2. Make a story come alive the same way pictures in books do

3. Provide visual clues to the story’s meaning while presenting the tale in a new format.

4. Add dialogue to a story and provide opportunities for audience interaction, creating a multi-dimensional experience.

5. Connect the storyteller with hard-to-reach audiences.

Here is an example of a story that can be told with a puppet. It's short, dramatic, focuses on one character, and has good dialogue. This is one of Aesop's fables--many other fables from Aesop are also adaptable for telling with a puppet. I am providing the "bones" of the tale--it's up to the teller to flash it out into a full story!

The Bat, the Birds and the Beasts

Once there was a big argument between the birds and the beasts. A battle was about to begin.

Bat hesitated, not sure which side to join.

The birds said: "Come fight with us."

Bat said, “I am a beast, not a bird.”

The beasts said: Come fight with us."

Bat said, “I am a bird, not a beast.”

Luckily peace was made and there was no battle.

Bat wanted to celebrate with birds, but the birds said, “You are not one of us. You are a beast.”

So Bat went to celebrate with the beasts, but the beasts told him, “You are a bird, not a beast. We will tear you to pieces.”

"Now I see," said Bat. "I must know who and what I am if I want to have friends."

Short and Spooky Halloween Tale

"Lock up well when we leave," her parents said.

"I will," she promised. She couldn't wait until they left--the house would be all hers!

Her parents walked out the door. She carefully locked up behind them, then checked all other window and door locks. She pulled the curtains closed and sat in her favorite chair to read. When it got late, she stood up, stretched, checked all the locks again and turned out the lights.

Then she went upstairs, checked the window locks to be sure they were
secure and pulled the curtains shut. She went into her bedroom, checked the window latches one more time, twitched the curtains tightly together, undressed and put on her nightgown.

She turned down the bedcovers, closed and locked her bedroom door, and
turned out the light.

It was just as she pulled the covers over her that she heard a voice say,

"Oh good. Now no one else can get in."

We're all alone."

Stories from Strangers: The Funeral with No Body

A lady told me this story at breakfast on Saturday morning:

She was at the cemetery, decorating her husband's grave. She noticed a hearse coming slowly up the hill, followed by a string of cars with funeral flags and lights on.

She was puzzled. There was no grave dug that she could see. She watched as the procesion pulled to a stop. People got out of their cars. Someone started singing. A preacher began praying. Everyone bowed their heads. There was no casket in view, and no open grave.

The prayers stopped, people got back in their cars. The hearse pulled solemnly away, followed the the rest of the procession.

"I could not believe what I had just seen," she said. "A funeral service, but no grave, and no body? What in the world were they doing?"

Her breakfast companion provided the answer. It seems the dearly departed had decided to be cremated, but still wanted a graveside service. Her family fulfilled that wish, and duly held the service while she reposed in the hearse, on her way to eternal fire. No grave, no body, but, as the lady observed, "a lovely service!"

A Man Named Odd

I had a photo shoot this evening. It's time to replace my professional photos that look like me--five years back. I don't mind getting older and my hair turning gray, but when my grandson refused to believe the picture on the poster was me, I knew I had to get new photos. (He relented after I put on make-up. "Okay," he said, "I guess make-up can do all that!")

During the shoot, the photographer told me this story.

There was a man whose name was Odd. He didn't like it much, but it's what his mother had gven him at birth so he lived with it. But he told his wife, "Be blamed if I'm going to be Odd after I die. When the time comes, I don't want you to put my name on my gravestone."

His wife agreed to heed his wishes. When Odd died, only his birth and death dates were recorded on the stone.

As the years past, visitors to the graveyard would pause when they saw his stone, and say to each other,

"Look at this grave! Isn't that Odd?"

A Story about Jack

Jack went out hunting, and he had a good day. He'd used up all his shot and his gamebag was full. He sat down to eat his lunch--a sackful of ripe peaches.

As he sat there, he saw the biggest buck he'd ever seen in his entire life. Its antlers branched out so far they blocked the sunlight, and that buck must have stood seventeen hands high. Jack reached for his gun, and then he remembered. He was out of shot.

Now some people would have cursed their luck, stomped around, cried, or blamed someone else for not having any shot left to shoot that big deer. But not Jack--he wasn't the kind of feller to let little things like that concern him. No, sir. Jack commenced to looking for an alternative solution to the situation at hand.

And he found it, right on the ground in front of him. Peach pits. Jack gathered up the peach seeds from his lunch and rammed them down the barrel of his gun, shoved in the wadding and powder and took aim.

Jack was a good shot. No, he was a great shot. No, he was an EXPERT shot. He hit that buck square between the eyes. But the buck just flinched, shook his head and ran off into the brush.

It didn't worry Jack too much. He had a bagful of game and he was too tired to drag a deer down the mountain anyway. He went whistling on home and cooked up a fine supper of squirrel gravy, fried rabbit and such as that. He forgot about that buck before his stomach was full.

A year later Jack found himself hunting in the same woods. He sat down to eat, and there in front of him he saw a magnificent peach tree. It was loaded with ripe, juicy peaches. Jack never could pass up a peach, so he jumped up and commenced to climbing up that tree.

He just got to the top where the ripest peaches were, when that tree stood up! That was when Jack realized that this wasn't an ordinary peach tree.

Remember the buck he shot? Well, one of the peach pits Jack had shot at that buck had lodged between the buck's antlers and grown into a full-sized peach tree right there on the buck's head!

That ol' buck shook his head, and sent Jack flying off--but not before Jack shoved about a dozen peaches into his pockets. Jack went on home and made him a peach cobbler.

And if no one's shot him, that buck is walking the woods yet.

A Fishing Story

My oldest son took off for his annual trout fishing trip with his buddies today, up in Pendleton County, WV. He's hoping to catch that big trout he caught two years ago. He said it was a giant.

He couldn't get the hook out of it's mouth unfortunately, so he had to throw it back with the hook still attached (he's a catch-and-release kind of fisherman). Last year they went back to that same spot, and he caught that fish again.

He said he knew the fish in that river grew fast (South Branch of the Potomac) so he wasn't surprised that the trout weighed 10 pounds more than it had last year. But he wasn't expecting that the hook he'd left in the trout's mouth would grow--it was a big as an anchor, and that fish was just dragging it around with him.

He's wondering how big that fish is now, and if the anchor is still growing too. He's worried that it's made its way down to Washington DC and got itself caught in one of those fishy stories floating around there these days. Of course, with Katie Couric's rating problems, it might get hired on as a news anchor on NBC.