There are actually a hell of a lot of stories about my dad, some of them funny, some of them not, some of them are just plain strange. He was a man who was many things, but mostly he was peculiar. After he died, many people said of my dad "He marched to the beat of a different drummer"  I would reply "Hell, he marched to a whole different brass band". But he was my dad, or as I often refer to him when discussing him "The old man", warts and all. and I am, for better or worse, unmistakably and irretrievably his son.

One of the first funny stories I ever heard about the old man I heard as a small child. It was before I was born, we had a dog named "Pup" or more formerly "Mick", a Springer Spaniel as I recall, kind, gentle to a fault. He brought some baby bunnies home in his mouth once when their mother was killed, we raised them and kept them for some time. But Pup was very protective, very much a dog who knew who "his" people were.

Langley was a much different place back when we had pup, back in the late fifties and early sixties, it was rural, small, and dark at night.. VERY dark at night. There were no streetlights and few people had the huge yard lights that are all the rage nowadays. Farms were common too, not "Hobby Farms" like today, but actual farming operations that paid their own way. Another thing that existed then was the "Hired Man" Hired men were people who worked on farms doing what needed to be done and were paid a small wage and usually were given a place to sleep and their food. Most often Hired men were mildly mentally challenged or just not very bright, either way, their phones weren't overloaded with calls from NASA.

There was a dairy farm just down the road from where we lived, and it employed a hired man. The hired man would finish his daily chores after the cows were milked, and supper eaten, he would take a walk down to the store, passing my parent's house on the way.

One night, he was gumbooting his way up the road toward his home, his flashlight beam shining in the darkness. As he passed my parent's house the dog saw the flashlight beam and barked, sitting on the front step he barked furiously at the passing light. He wouldn't leave the step, well disciplined as he was, but let whoever it was know on no uncertain terms that this was HIS place, these were HIS people and to KEEP YOUR DISTANCE!

I guess he was bored, maybe it was because he was a few credits short of his PhD. Whatever, he took some amusement in shining his light into the yard and teasing the dog. Had it just been the once nothing would have happened, but it wasn't just the once, it became a nightly ritual... He would walk to the store, buy his cigarettes and sundries. While he was walking home he'd shine the light in and tease the dog, drive the dog into a barking fury and gumboot away snickering... unsuspecting.. never imagining the way things were falling into place.

The old man had noticed that the dog was barking a hell of a lot, and it seemed at the same time each night. So he watched......

Sure enough, at the right time the flashlight beam shone down our long driveway, flickering, shining on the dog, driving him into a barking fury. What the light didn't  illuminate was the old man.. lurking in the shadows, brows furrowed, toothpick tightly held between his teeth. "Well, by Jesus" he whispered as the plan formed in his mind.

The hired man's punctuality was his undoing...

The next night, at the usual time the hired man's gumboots scraped down the gravel road in the darkness. Humming tunelessly to himself I suppose he grinned in anticipation, of his nightly amusement.

 The boots stopped at the end of the driveway and the flashlight began to flicker...

Dutifully Pup began to bark, angrily, furiously, never leaving the step, the same as always. The hired man grinned in glee. His flashlight pointing

Like an avenging angel, the old man materialized in the darkness rising from the ditch, his patience rewarded at last. His bellow of "HEEEEEOOOOORRRAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!" in the hired man's ear caused the flashlight to drop to the  ground, rolling it's beam crazily. Screeching, the hired man took to his heels in mortal terror sprinting as fast as his rubber-clad feet could carry him, fist-sized rocks crashed into the gravel road beside and behind him, his heels slapped his buttocks and his legs reached yards ahead, his effort amazing, super-human

My old man was in pretty good shape, he chased him the full half mile at a sprint. I doubt he actually wanted to catch him otherwise he would have.  The old man was a mean sonofabitch when the mood overtook him and could have beaten the hired man to red  paste without much effort, but he chose not to. Every once in awhile during the chase he'd close with him and kick him in the backside soundly. He likely thought the lesson was more effective the way he taught it, I tend to agree.

My parents never heard a word about that night from anyone. Though it couldn't have gone unnoticed. A poor, whimpering wretch being chased down a dark gravel road by this crazed roaring fiend. Shouts echoing through the still night air as rocks whistled at supersonic speed. Things like that just didn't happen in Langley then.

 Well...not in other neighborhoods anyway.

The dog was never teased at night again and the hired man gained some valuable education.
My old man had an amusing anecdote to snicker cruelly about for the rest of his life.

The other thing my old man had was a metal, shiny chrome flashlight that gave him many years of service thereafter.
 
 
 

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