We sat listening to my grandfather’s story of his days as a moonshiner. We were too young to really understand what it meant, but the story always fascinated us.
“Ahh, hell, Berta. Remember how we used to hide in the ditch when we saw the fuzz coming? Yah, they’d be shining their spotlights right over our heads and we’d laugh and laugh. Stupid bastards never could catch us.”
“Cleo!”, my grandmother would scold. “Don’t talk like that in front of the girls.”
“Ahh, hell. They don’t care.”
“Grandpa, tell us about the pigs. We want to hear about the pigs!” That was always our favorite part of the story.
“Oh, them pigs. We’d take our leftover mash from the still and feed it to those damn pigs. They’d stand on their back legs and just squeal and squeal. Funniest thing I ever did see.”
We sat there laughing right along with him, not noticing the way he drifted back in time.
Older now, I understand what it meant to be a moonshiner in the 30s and I can picture the drunk pigs on their heels. It still makes me laugh. But I also feel something more profound, as I sit here going back in time just like my grandfather did when he shared his own story.
“Ahh, hell, Berta. Remember how we used to hide in the ditch when we saw the fuzz coming? Yah, they’d be shining their spotlights right over our heads and we’d laugh and laugh. Stupid bastards never could catch us.”
“Cleo!”, my grandmother would scold. “Don’t talk like that in front of the girls.”
“Ahh, hell. They don’t care.”
“Grandpa, tell us about the pigs. We want to hear about the pigs!” That was always our favorite part of the story.
“Oh, them pigs. We’d take our leftover mash from the still and feed it to those damn pigs. They’d stand on their back legs and just squeal and squeal. Funniest thing I ever did see.”
We sat there laughing right along with him, not noticing the way he drifted back in time.
Older now, I understand what it meant to be a moonshiner in the 30s and I can picture the drunk pigs on their heels. It still makes me laugh. But I also feel something more profound, as I sit here going back in time just like my grandfather did when he shared his own story.
