A Chained Man : The True story of my great uncle
June 3, 2017 8:31am CST
It seems as if, with time, storm like weather is just few and far between. It might actually be that we lead busier lives now, and that storms come and go with us barely noticing it. It could be that the cables and wires that connect us to the outside world have been replaced with stronger cables so that our power does not go off as often as it once did. It used to be, atleast as I recall, that a really powerful storm also brought with it, the loss of our electric. Maybe that is just the way I would like to remember it, as the loss of power, though scary, always brought with it a time for recollections. I spent many summers of my youth with my grandparents. I often enjoyed late night t.v., homemade artificial snow cream, and on stormy nights, recollections / story telling in front of the big windows in the den. My grandmother and I, sometimes accompanied by my grandfather, and often accompanied by my brother, would sit in the dark and talk about things of her youth. You could often hear me asking, "Granny tell me about the time that you saw your uncle in the window at your aunt's." I will tell you that story now. The way she told it would sometimes change. She would either remember something she had long forgotten, or she'd intentionally embellish it for my benefit and entertainment. The entirety of the story could very well be made up, but if it is, it's still one I enjoy today. My grandmother was a young girl, she couldn't have been more than 11 she says, when she went to stay with my aunt. My aunt had lost her husband, my grandmother's uncle, some six months previous. Her son, my grandmother's cousin, was a rowdy and rebelling teenager. Whether it was his way of coping with his father's death, or if it was simply the way he was, I do not know. It seems to me that my grandmother did not know herself. My grandmother was sitting in a rocking chair by a big window. I can't recall whether she was reading, sewing, or simply rocking. Whatever the case, something drew her attention to the world outside. She looked out the window, and nearly fell out of the chair trying to scurry away. She let out a scream and her cousin, who had been being rowdy just moments before, quietened. The scene before her, though quickly vanished, had been that of her uncle. She described him as being in his motorcycle jacket and wrapped in chains. She didn't describe his face, but I imagine it mustn't have been a very welcoming one. Now whether she really did see her uncle remains to be proven. I've never thought to ask her if she had just told me these stories to amuse me. Truthfully, I don't want to know. I don't want the illusion that they were real to be broken.
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@TiarasOceanView It could have been two separate things. He enjoyed motorcycles, and being a lumberjack. He could have been a part of HellsAngels. My grandmother was young enough where I don't think she would have known eithe rway.