Mom’s family was way the heck different from Dad’s family.
Mom’s family was full of fast talker. They had so much to say, their words stumbled over each other trying to get out in the world. Uncle Tony and Grandpa, and Aunt Mary and Aunt Clara all had something to say about everything going on in the world. All those uncles and aunts lived to be about a hundred or more, and the whole while they talked up a blue streak. Sometimes I wondered if anybody was listening with all that stuttering, and shouting and waving of hands.
Dad’s family was full of story-tellers. All those brothers laid out stories about this person or that dog, or maybe a cow who jumped fences or a fish that could do tricks, ’til I never knew what was true and what they made up. Aunt Barbara told stories, too. She was quieter than her brothers. Still, she could tell a story so I never forgot. Continue reading