A Flash from the Past — A Flippity Do Dah, A Flippity Day

Change of pace. In 1971 I wrote a story in the style of Mark Twain while traveling from Detroit to Zihuatanejo, Mexico. A birthday gift for Oscar.

Proem

I wrote a story driving down from Detroit to Zihuatanejo, Mexico, in December 1971 with my dear friends, the Keeney family, Jerry, Peggy, Jenny, Becky, and Allie. I had wanted to drop out of college, but Jerry suggested I ask to do an independent study for the semester. My advisors agreed. My study: full Mark Twain immersion with the deliverable — two stories written in the style of Mark Twain. I read my first story to the tribe in Zihuatanejo on Christmas 1971. I was 19. I thought I had lost the story, but I found the manuscript a month ago tucked inside a book about Mark Twain, called Mark Twain Himself. I wanted to give the book to my grandson, Oscar. Oscar and I read to each other for an hour each week. We read Tom Sawyer and now we’re reading Huckleberry Finn. We started this pleasant ritual about a year ago when he was concerned about my Pokeman illiteracy. He’s becoming more literate about Mississippi life in the 1870s than I became about Pokeman. Anyway, my brain needs a respite from COVID-19, health choices, politics, life. So, rather than an interview or a rant, I’m going to read you that story I wrote almost 50 years ago. This also gives me a chance to play…