I was browsing through our local paper the other day and stopped to read a little story submitted by our local Area Agency on Aging. The two gentlemen who share the story probably aren’t anywhere in the Larlee line but this is just the sort of family story that can become a legend as it is passed down through the generations. As the two neighbors, Leonard Hutchins and Coleman Brown, say, “The conversation drifted to life’s important lessons, and Coleman told me about this event. It seems to me [Leonard] that we should pass this along to our grandsons so the mistake won’t be repeated.” The story is in The Star-Herald, February 13, 2008 edition; told my Coleman:

In 1925, I was in the fourth grade at the Mapleton Mill School. A neighbor, Jimmie, got a Model T. My dog, Bernie, was a really good St. Bernard, and I still don’t think this deal way my fault.

Everyone liked Bernie, but Mom tried to keep him out of the kitchen. With all four paws on the floor, Bernie drank from the sink and ate anything there happened to be on the table. Then, as often as not, he turned around, wagged his tail, and swept the dishes of the table. He was pretty hard on screen doors, too.

Dad made a harness for Bernie, and my dog had a great time twitching our firewood logs out of the woods in winter. Bernie’s paws were so big that he didn’t need snowshoes. My dog didn’t need a harness to pull my sled in winter or my cart in summer. I just tied on a rope and tied a knot in the other end. I soon learned to get in the sled or cart before I gave the knot to Bernie. When he got that knot he was gone.

So, anyway, our neighbor Jimmy got a Model T. Jimmy’s horses let him know when it was feeding time, but the Model T didn’t. Jimmy ran out of gas often. Usually he borrowed a horse from the closest farm. The horse pulled him and his empty Model T to the garage for some gas, and Jimmy led the horse home with his car. That worked okay.

But one spring Jimmie ran out of gas by our farm. Dad was planting, so there wasn’t a spare horse for Jimmy. Dad remembers me using a rope with a knot to get Bernie to pull my card, so he tied the rope to Jimmie’s Motel T and gave the know to Bernie. That was Bernie’s big day.

We were out for recess at the Mill School when Bernie came bounding down the road pulling Jimmie’s car. Hey, Bernie was my dog and people were watching him, so I ran along to get him to go faster. Bernie was going too fast for Jimmie already, and Jimmie had his brakes locked. That was before the roads were tarred, so the tires skidded along kicking up dust.

Six older girls at school thought I had tied Jimmie’s car to Bernie’s tail like a tin can, and they came running and screaming to rescue my dog.

Old Mr. Morrison had a store in town. He couldn’t see very well, but he heard us coming. He ran out in the road to stop Bernie, but Bernie dodged him. Jimmie’s Model T ran right over poor old Mr. Morrison.

Mr. Libby at the garage ran out and offered his hat to Bernie. Bernie was happy with that, so he dropped the knot, took the hat, and ran for home.

Mr. Morrison somehow was OK, but there I stood looking at six older girls wo were sure that I had tied Jimmie’s car to Bernie’s tail. I heard quite a lot as we walked back to the Mill School.

That should have been the end of it but Miss Jones, our teacher, made all seven of us stay after school every afternoon for the rest of the school year. I’ll tell you what; Mapleton is a pretty small place if you have to avoid six girls who are really ugly at you. [ed. he means angry.]

That’s okay Coleman. There are always some who won’t believe the truth no matter what.