Remembering Dad

The Legend of the Flying Pig

 

It’s an old story, tried and true,

One that will certainly pull you out of the blue.

One that deserves retellin’ I tell ya;

‘Course no one could do it like Sonny, oh yeah.

 

On a warm, autumn day in mid-September

The legend was born, a story to remember.

It was time for the fair to come to the county

All vying for ribbons and farmers to sell their bounty.

 

Young Sonny was summoned, and he didn’t dare linger.

Take the pig to the fair, his Dad shook his finger,

And don’t you be racin’ I’m giving you my Chevy

Don’t be doin’ no funny stuff for that truck is too heavy.

 

Then into the bed they loaded the pig,

Rosy pink and nearly 700 lbs. big;

With a perfectly curled tail and perky little ears,

And bright eyes and snout, he rose effortlessly above his peers.

 

The truck it was waitin’ and Sonny slid inside.

Hold on little piggy, you’re goin’ for a ride!

Surely a pig that size would stay in place;

It was only 6 miles, and Sonny’d hold his pace.

 

But County E lay ahead and to be a racer his fate,

He kept it tight in the corners; like a bullet on the straight.

His Dad’s old Chevy Sonny pushed hard to its limit;

No fear had he, it was pedal to the metal and give it!

 

Richert’s bridge loomed in the distance.

He was sure he could do it if only by the seat of his pants.

Sonny knew if he hit the rise in the road just right

He could jump that bridge without a fight.

 

He gunned the motor and with a mighty lurch;

If this didn’t go right, he’d be needin’ a church.

The quarterpanels flapped and the tires spun free

YeeHah, Sonny whooped with unfettered glee.

 

That old truck flew with the grace of a bird

On nothing but guts and glory it was spurred.

Then the tires kissed the pavement with one little bounce

And ah, sweet success, he hadn’t worried an ounce.

 

To let off some steam he turned up the radio

And sang ‘Blue Moon of Kentucky’ with Bill Monroe.

It was a good day, a great day indeed,

For he’d fulfilled his thirsty need for speed.

 

He pulled into Steigers to pump some gas,

Whistling as he filled the tank with a splash.

And then it hit, like a nasty slap in the face,

Something was horribly, horribly out of place.

 

It started with a cold sweat that beaded on his brow

And a twist of his innerds, I’ve got me some trouble now.

He replaced the hose, as his hands began to shake

Oh Lordy, his belly really started to ache.

 

The pig, it was gone and his Dad was going to kill him!

He tore out of the station, panic rushing every limb

And raced back to the site with a fear so big

His undoing lay on the fate of a pig.

 

By the side of the creek that pink lump did lay.

“A bit skun up,” Sonny would later say.

But one tough ham as he’d always recall,

That big old pig could really take a fall.

 

The story lay fallow for quite some time.

It was years before his Dad knew the nature of Sonny’s crime.

And why his favorite hog failed to earn that year

The top dollar it would bring in, he was so sure.

 

As the years rolled on, Sonny retold the story

Of the poor pig so wrongly robbed of his glory.

He’d tell it with a chuckle and a slap of the knee

While all of us around him laughed so heartily.

 

Now the legend lives on and the townspeople say

The pig still haunts that bridge to this day.

So I warn you truly, when you’re out on County E;

You just might see a flash of pink as you cross, wait and see.

 

Darling Anna

Recently, I had one of the most wonderful experiences.  I had the pleasure of accompanying my granddaughter, Anna, to see a production of Beauty and the Beast at the Grand Theater in Wausau, WI.  We got all gussied up in our finest, went to dinner at Olive Garden where we had great food and made a toast to ‘us and a fabulous evening’.  After, we made it to the therater with time to explore.  Mostly we checked out the balcony, but it reminded me of Girl Scout meetings in our local library.  We scouts would sneak up into the dark recesses of the three story building looking for ghosts, afterwards coming up with colorful stories of what we’d experienced.  Anna’s classmates warned her of a ghost that resides there, so of course, we had to check it out.  It was delicious fun!

Before the play began I put us in the wrong seats twice before I got my act together and found the right ones.  It was good for a giggle.  Then, the play began.  The music  was golden to the ears, the colorful sets a banquet for the eyes, and the dancing enthralling.  Several times, I looked over to see Anna’s face in rapture as she watched.

At intermission, Anna threw her arms around me and said, “thanks, Grammy!”  As with the Grinch, my heart gew two sizes that evening.  My date with Anna is one of my finest memories.  I can’t wait to do it again!!

Autumn Scents

You know, I just love Autumn.  The colors, the sound of leaves rustling underfoot, the snow wafting from overhead…wait, what, SNOW?  Yes, it’s snowing outside my window as I write this.  So far, it’s not sticking.  But that’s not what this is about – besides, I don’t want to give the white stuff any attention just yet.  Anyway, to get back on track, I canned pickled beets yesterday.  The scent is like none other – I know that’s a cliche, but I can’t help it.  The scent of the cinnamon and cloves fills the house, and I just want to bathe myself in it.  Okay, I’d look a little wierd after the beet juice turned me magenta.  But I highly suggest pickling beets sometime just for the aroma.  Today, I baked apple pies.  Again – that scent!  I’m stopping now – the apple pies are calling me.  Yum!

Real Life

I’ve said many times that I enjoy writing romance for the sheer joy of watching characters come to life on the page – and infusing them with nuances of the characters I see around me every day.  In ‘Kissing Livvy’ I was able to take so many influences and apply them to the colorful characters of Butternut Creek.  Livvy is almost purely one person who shall remain nameless.  Jesse is based on two very important men in my life.  They are very similar, yet each one brings something to the character.  Sarah was by far the most fun to write.  Her ascerbic nature was just plain fun because it’s a defense mechanism – she’s truly not that crabby as you see toward the end.  And George – what can I say about good ol’ George?  Meeting him, you will see where Sarah gets her gumption, and that a soft heart does lurk just below the surface, no matter how hard they try to cover it up.  But Livvy and Jesse, opposite personalities for sure, but an attraction so strong that nothing can keep them apart – even the fear of laying your heart wide open for all the reward just waiting in the wings.

Supporting the arts – the small town way

This last Saturday night my husband and I attended Jonesfest in Kennan, WI.  The event is the brainchild of a few people in that area who performed in bands when they were younger and felt a need to do something to make sure music education remains alive and well in our rural schools.

We parked our car in a hayfield, walked across a small bridge and down a short dirt road to a cabin in the woods.  Tents were set up to shield from the sun and the dew of the evening, white lights danced overhead, food was served for a donation and beverages sold.  Admission was free.  People scattered the surrounding area with lawn chairs and blankets or sat at tables under the tents.  Beyond the seating a giant bonfired lit the night.  Someone made a “tiki” torch from a hollowed log standing on end.  It was the neatest thing.  A fire was lit below and where the tree once had branches, holes had been drilled.  The fire raced up the inside of the trunk and came out the holes and burst out the top.  It looked like a tree of fire.  A few lucky souls won raffles.

The best part was the local talent displayed.  Five bands, one hour each.  In between people shared jokes and amusing stories.  All proceeds went to the schools music program.  I would guess that nearly 400 people attended.  I cannot commend these people enough.  It’s amazing what a few can do.  Thank you for such an enjoyable evening!!

 

 

Small Town Characters

I love small towns and the eccentric people that give them color – that’s why I write about them. Of course big cities have their unique citizens as well, but in a small town they become a hallmark, a cornerstone of entertainment.

Our town has a man that walks from sun-up to sun-down, the same route every day. Always in an interesting outfit (personally I love the fur boots and fringed vest), sometimes carrying a fishing pole or a guitar. When he has the guitar out, he’ll sit in our central park and wail at the top of his lungs. In his younger days, he rode an old banana bike through town. He’ll make his own commentary to no one as he walks along and once in a while he’ll stop on a corner and howl like a wolf. Always with a smile on his face and a glint in his eye to see who’s watching. There was a time when he carried a camera and took pictures of butts. No one seemed offended, in fact, it was a badge of honor. Okay, we may be a bit sick, but it was all in fun. Seems everyone in town keeps an eye on him and for the most part, enjoys his presence. People joke that he’ll probably have the biggest funeral this little burg has seen.

Carry on, Waldamore!

Flambeau-Rama!

Just getting ready to head out to our small town summer festival, Flambeau Rama. Can’t wait to see who I see and find what I find.

Soggy Sunday

I had just a small window of time, but I got in the flower beds and finished putting mulch down on a path.  And then the rain came.  I don’t mind so much because now I can curl up with a book.  A great way to spend an afternoon before getting back into the grind.  What’s your favorite way to spend a soggy Sunday?

Tess Morrison weaves the nuances of northern Wisconsin small-town living with rich, heartwarming stories, finding humor amidst the struggles of life where love conquers and laughter heals.
“The whispers of fate are calling…” – Tess

Kissing Livvy On Sale Now!

Tess Morrison's latest romance novel, Kissing Livvy, is available now in print and electronically.

After an environmental protest goes awry, Livvy Sherman finds herself abandoned on Jesse Tully’s logging job. Taming the Tully men (and women) proves quite the wild ride, but tame them she must if she is to accomplish her secret agenda.

Jesse’s got his hands full with a struggling business, a cantankerous father, a troubled teenager and a crabby grandma. Now he has this hippy-dippy protestor thrown into the mix.

What more could go wrong?