The Mad Man on the Hill

The final line was crossed the moment his finger pulled the trigger. Life would not go on as it had. It would never be the same again. And for me and my family, this was a good thing.

I grew up on a country hill in Creek County, Oklahoma with a mad man--I called him Pa. He was my grandfather. I had a mad man for a grandfather. As to the extent of his madness, this I would not fully comprehend until I was an adult and looking back on those years living up on the hill.

But this story is about much more than just the mad man on the hill. This story is about all the vivid characters that made up my family and about growing up country in a small, rural town in Oklahoma. It is equal parts hilarity and heartbreak.

In this story, we will walk the country roads, sit at the bar in Grandma Margaret's kitchen for some sugar pies, battle it out with snakes, and go to bed to the lullaby of the bull frogs down at the pond. Your belly will be sore from laughing at all the funny parts, while your heart will be squeezed by the harder aspects of my story.

I put my family story down on paper because I believe it is a story worth telling, and I enjoy telling a good story. It delights me to think that others too may find enjoyment in hearing my story. If anything is gleaned from its telling, I hope it is a hearty helping of laughter--with full permission granted to even appreciate the humor found within the hard parts too.

So, come on out to the country with me. Pull up a porch chair, fix yourself a tall, cold glass of sweet iced tea, and let me tell you a true story.