My grandpa had a set of favorite stories he used to tell. Again and again I’m different, as my kids can freely attest. My stories are never repeated. Really. Anyway, he’d tell the story, and then slap his leg as he laughed at the punch line. He always wore blue overalls and a threadbare blue long sleeved work shirt, and usually dust would rise from his pant leg as he slapped his leg and celebrated his wit. Stories were often told when we stopped whatever we were doing for a drink, and my brothers and I would always encourage more stories, ‘cause that beat the hell out of walking beans or bucking bales. Looking back on it now, Grandpa’s sense of humor may have been a bit….different.
Stories
Stories
Stories
My grandpa had a set of favorite stories he used to tell. Again and again I’m different, as my kids can freely attest. My stories are never repeated. Really. Anyway, he’d tell the story, and then slap his leg as he laughed at the punch line. He always wore blue overalls and a threadbare blue long sleeved work shirt, and usually dust would rise from his pant leg as he slapped his leg and celebrated his wit. Stories were often told when we stopped whatever we were doing for a drink, and my brothers and I would always encourage more stories, ‘cause that beat the hell out of walking beans or bucking bales. Looking back on it now, Grandpa’s sense of humor may have been a bit….different.