Favorite family stories

One of my favorite stories that is retold from time to time at family gatherings involves my Uncle Bubba.

When he was 8 or 9 years old, he would ride his bicycle down the street toward the house, gathering speed as he went. As he got to the house, he would turn sharply and race up the driveway.

Uncle Bubba had a unique way of coming to a stop. Rather than use the bicycle's brakes, he would reach up and grab a limb on a dogwood tree that hung at the perfect height to stop his forward motion. Uncle Bubba used this method of stopping for quite some time.

Until my grandfather sawed off the limb, that is.

The next time Uncle Bubba rode down the street, turned the corner and raced up the driveway, he reached up for the limb. But since the limb wasn't there, of course, it didn't stop him. But whatever he crashed headlong into certainly did.

That story came to mind this week when my mother informed me that I made a mistake in an old family story I told in last week's column. It was a small mistake, and it didn't really change the gist of what I was trying to convey.

But I was wrong, and it made me start thinking of some of the great stories in our family, like Uncle Bubba and the dogwood limb.

I'm blessed to be part of a great family. We have great stories to tell, and we love telling them. I'm also blessed to be part of a family that enjoys getting together. I've always felt sorry for friends who dreaded the holidays as if going to visit their family ranked right up there with root canal surgery.

When we all get together at Thanksgiving, it's more of a mob scene than just a family gathering. There always a lot of laughter. Fortunately, none of us takes life too seriously.

Invariably, we begin to share the old stories. Like how my grandfather told me feeding cheese crackers to goldfish is why they are orange. Like how the plan to get my grandmother soaking wet by putting her in the front of the log flume ride at Six Flags backfired. Like the origins of the family joke.

Yes, we have a family joke. It ain't real funny, to be honest. But it has endured for years.

What do you say to a deaf rabbit?

"HEY, RABBIT."

OK, perhaps that loses something in print. Nonetheless, the stories are all priceless. In so many ways, they tell the history of our family.

I'm afraid, though, that the stories are in danger of dying off. We've already lost my grandmother, my great Aunt Cecile and my Aunt Ann, who all were great storytellers, not to mention the subject of more than few great stories themselves.

So many of the stories I only vaguely remember. I'm missing key details. For instance, I don't remember exactly what it was Uncle Bubba crashed into when he reached for the missing limb.

I want to know those details, so I'm going to do something about it. I'm going to contact the family and let them know that when we next get together, probably at Thanksgiving, I want to begin a project of collecting audio recordings of these family stories.

My mother points out a potential problem. It's possible that family members will remember some things differently, and we'll end up with three versions of the same story. But three versions is better than no versions.

I don't really know what I'll do with these recordings. I doubt anyone would buy a book of these stories. Besides, I'm not sure the statute of limitations has run out on some of them.

But I want them kept alive, and I hope the family wants them kept alive, too.

Mitch Clarke is executive editor of The Times in Gainesville, Ga. He can be reached at mclarke@ gainesvilletimes. com.