Nov 12, 2013

The Naked Man in the Peat Bog

Most of my autobiographical posts have been about my father's family, Grandma Davis, Aunt Nora, and Cousin Joe, because I have more memories of them: we stayed with them on holidays, and they took me places.

We visited my mother's family, too,  at my Grandpa Prater's farmhouse in Garrett, but it was sort of boring -- impenetrable Kentucky accents, smoking and drinking, endless discussions of things that happened 100 years ago back in the hills.

And no one to play with, except for my Cousin Buster.   Sometimes my Uncle Paul  would play -- until the summer after 3rd grade, when he got married and turned into an adult.  I have only a few solid memories: swimming in the pool down the road, catching frogs, fishing, having milkshakes with his friends, learning how to "pee in the wind" (with the wind blowing away from you, so the stream is carried a long way).

And the Naked Man in the Peat Bog

There was a peat bog beyond the cornfields, a swampy, mossy expanse that looked like a good place to catch alligators.  But Paul -- he never liked to be called "Uncle" -- told us never to go near it: "There's a Naked Man who lives in there, and he eats kids.  If you get too close, he'll pop out and grab you and cook you for his dinner!"

"Why doesn't Grandpa tell him to move out?" I asked, already aware of property rights.

Paul thought for a moment. "He's been living here a lot longer than we have, more than a hundred years."

The full post, with nude photos, is on Tales of West Hollywood.