The Eagle Has Landed. But Where?

Henry Clyde Billingsley was a young WWI soldier who awoke one day with an unplanned, unwanted but spectacular new eagle tattoo. Decades later, your editor recalled the incident to Brother Paul who, consistent with his contentious nature and faulty memory, insisted the tattoo had somehow been squeezed onto Grandpa's left forearm.

It was, of course, spread-eagled in all its glory on Grandpa's chest, wingtips stretching from nipple to nipple. There ensued a heated, still smouldering family discussion, that ended in a call to Blonde Cousin Kathy, who listened tactfully to both cousins before uttering five utterly Kathy-like words: "Grandpa Bill had a tattoo? Short of exhumation of old Grandpa, the matter may appear long dead and buried. But the mission of this blog will be to rectify this and other faulty family memories ...

Monday, November 16, 2009

Sam, the Christmas Turkey

Praters occasionally obsess.  And Stacker Prater (aka Paul E, father of both Bill John and Paulie) had a thing about old-time turkeys - specifically bronzebacks, the kind once found on grade school wall at Thanksgiving Time, with magnificent red wattles and tails that spread wide like an NBC peacock in the days before color television. 
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Wednesday, November 11, 2009

New topic: Why Paulie and Bill never had a baby sister


Blame it on diapers. Mom swore our baby sister never came because of a lucrative job offer that kept her at work instead of the bedroom. I say it was the way you had to keep kids’ butts clean in the late 1940s, early ‘50s.
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