FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER FOR FOLKLORE UPDATES @heatherfblanton // send submissions to firstname.lastname@example.org
My grandfather was a very serious man; it is his style. During dinner he would be the first to sit and be served but after praying he didn’t speak anymore despite the loud and long conversations the rest of us have at the table. One night at dinner when I was about 12, my grandfather says calmly “Hugo killed my dog.” Everyone laughed but I was mortified that my grandfather’s dog had been killed and spent several years thinking that someone had actually murdered my grandfathers dog when he was younger. To my surprise I was told a few years later that the dog had been locked in the barn during a hurricane to protect it but the barn was destroyed and the dog killed; the storm was Hurricane Hugo.
Another night at dinner my grandmother was talking about the green beans she had prepared and everyone commented on how good they were, she continued saying “I cooked them one night for just me and Scott (my grandfather), and they were so good right Scott?” To which my grandfather answers “I must not have been home that night.”
–Matthew Brent Purser