I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time.

One of my all time favorite running gags from The Simpsons were the rambling, hilariously exaggerated stories that Grandpa Simpson would tell.

A few examples:

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time I caught the ferry over to Shelbyville. I needed a new heel for my shoe, so, I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on 'em. "Give me five bees for a quarter," you'd say. Now, where were we? Oh yeah, the important thing was I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time. They didn't have white onions because of the war. The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones...

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Then after World War Two, it got kinda quiet, 'til Superman challenged FDR to a race around the world. FDR beat him by a furlong, or so the comic books would have you believe. The truth lies somewhere in between.

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My story begins in nineteen-dickety-two. We had to say "dickety" because the Kaiser had stolen our word "twenty". I chased that rascal to get it back, but gave up after dickety-six miles. (the children laugh) What are you cackling at, fatty? Too much pie, that's your problem! Now, I'd like to digress from my prepared remarks to discuss how I invented the terlet...

Focus: What is the greatest story you have ever heard from a relative? Great uncle kill thirty Nazis using nothing but one of those German helmets with the pointy spike on it? Dad lose his shins in the war Cotton Hill style? Grandmother was the first woman to fly around the world in an airplane, but then that bitch Amelia Earhart took the credit? Let us know.

 

When my dad was younger, he had cousins that were around his age that were just ruthless to animals. The best/worst story I ever heard about them was when they dangled a cat from its hind legs over a pig pen. They lowered the cat right over the sow (mother swine). The cat was obviously pissed and kept clawing the shit out of the pig.

Eventually the cousin that was holding the cat felt a tug on the cat, so he pulled it back up. The sow had gotten so pissed that it bit the cats head off.

 

My grandparents were all dead/living across the country when I was little so I never got to know them very well or their pasts. My Dad has four brothers who grew up during the 60's/Nam, though, and their combined stories could make a good book.

-My grandfather had a PhD in physics and worked on the Manhattan project. Radiation was understood very little at that point. One of my uncles said of the things Grandpa would bring home from work: "I had a lot of toys as a kid, but only half of them were radioactive." One of them was a Cloud Chamber, which is basically what it sounds like-- a device that simulates cloud formations somehow using a radioactive core. That and DDT-- when my grandma didn't feel like spraying the weeds, she would strap my uncles up with basically a flamethrower that sprays DDT and tell them to do it. Of course they ended up spraying each other more often. None of them are dead. Yet...

-One of my uncles in particular is the epitome of a Mad scientist. He's got a masters in Chemistry that for awhile he used to no good-- he was a speed cook. When he was younger, before college even, he ordered a very large amount of some amphetamine precursor directly from a chemical manufacturer. He ordered so much that Federal agents came to his house. My grandpa (physics PhD) managed to play it off like he needed the chemicals for his research.

-In 1967 my grandfather died from cancer (go figure), so in the summer of '68 (a year after the "summer of love") my dad visited his four brothers who were now in California, where they were living in the Haight-Ashbury. My dad was 16. He won't tell me a lot about that summer. I'm not sure he can remember. He said that he had hardly taken a step off the bus before people were offering him LSD, mescaline, etc. That era tends to get romanticized a lot though, and its easy to forget a lot of people were also doing hard drugs, there were ugly riots, etc. The look on my dads face as he describes watching someones heroin needle break off in their arm, squirting blood everywhere, makes me cringe just thinking about it.

-In the summer of '69 my grandma decided it would be a good idea to send my Dad to Europe with no plans whatsoever. He spent 3 months bumming around Sweden, Belgium, Denmark, and the Netherlands. The highlights of this trip include: seeing Pink Floyd in Amsterdam, smoking a lot of weed and somehow ending up in a live minefield leftover from WWII, and being refused entry into England for no reason besides that he had long hair. He said the airport officials in London pulled out about every hippy/black person and most of them were strip searched/denied entry (even with valid passports). Famously in my family, years later my uncle was detained at the London airport for some bulllshit like "possible relations to a suspicious person." He had no clue what it was all about-- eventually he figured out it was because he has the same last name as my Dad.

-Four of my uncles were of prime age to get drafted for vietnam. Miraciously, none of them did-- part luck and part creativity. One of them fasted for weeks until he weighed 90 lbs to fail health inspections. Conversely, another uncle gained 120 lbs by eating dozens of donuts every day.

-Somewhere in Massachusetts my Dad and two of my uncles found a decommissioned early cold-war era missile silo. It was just a hatch on the side of a hill that led down into a deep underground labryinth of passageways. If that's not bizarre enough, they took some ecstasy before they went in. When they came out, two federal agents in a black car were waiting for them outside, and their entire car had been searched. They were scared shitless but nothing much came of it, they were just sent on their way.

There are countless more of these stories but these are the ones that stick out in my head. It really was a different time back then. The best part of these stories is the ending: all of my uncles found success somehow. Three are doctors, ones a lawyer. I have no idea how that came about.

 

Sure I'll wrestle that bear

My father's entire side of the family tells and believes that my great uncle Charles wrestled a grizzly bear on his honeymoon in the 1930's. No photographic evidence has ever been presented but the story is as follows.

Charles and his wife were married and drove from Western MA to Niagara Falls for their honeymoon. While in Niagara Falls there was a circus or fair or something along those lines where a trained bear clad in a muzzle and mitts performed tricks for the crowd. The ring master asked the audience if there was anyone in attendance that would try their hand at wrestling the bear for *$20 if they won. Charles who had been drinking, stands up and says he'll challenge the bear. The ring master is shocked because this rarely happens. Charles is a big mother fucker 6'4 upwards of 350lbs of farm boy muscle (who legend has it also snapped a pair of handcuffs once while being arrested). He saunters into the ring, winds up and punches the bear in the ear and then drags it to the ground pinning it. He stands, snatches the money out of the ring masters hand and bows to the crowd.

I have NO idea if this story is true or not. However, knowing about some of the shit my grandfather pulled and that his brother was crazier than he was makes it plausible. I've been hearing this tale since I was a tyke and have heard it told exactly the same way by half a dozen of my older grand-relatives. I really wish Charles was still alive so I could ask him if this is fact or fiction.

*I can't remember if it was $20 or something else but it was a significant amount of money for the 1930's

 

My uncle Arthur told me a story about some guy from a nearby village in Greece that was partially deaf but faught in WW2 against the Italians that advanced into Greece (before they Germans came to their aid when the Italians had their asses kicked .... )
The deaf dude was part of a group that was camped up in the mountains fighting the Italians , one night word went around that the group was going to move to another location , deaf dude did not hear this and when he woke up in the morning , all his comrades had left.
Deaf dude sitting there all alone then sees a bunch of Italians advancing along and becomes a one man army , taking shots at the Italians and basically driving them back and possibly killing a few.
He was decorated for his act of "courage"

 

I've been told stories about my great grandfather and his cousins that seem like utter bullshit yet I keep bumping into people who claim to be - and they are old enough to be legit - eye witnesses of these stories.

One story has it that my great grandfather had one hell of a bite and that his jaws were some kind of bear trap. Apparently at a wedding party he was challenged to pick up a table. With his mouth. Supposedly he was able to bite it and fling it over. I call bullshit but some relatives swear by it.

Another story has his cousin working on the farm one day when a cow wouldn't come in from grazing. The guy goes out to try and force the cow in but the cow won't move. This being the crazy side of my family, the cousin got so angry that with one punch to the head he killed the cow. Now I've seen a very old photo of this guy and he was a fucking beast but I have a little trouble seeing how you can kill a cow with one punch.

The last story for now isn't all that unbelievable but I find it hilarious. One day when my uncle was much younger he came home from school crying with some bruises on his arms. Over in Lebanon its not a big deal if a teacher smacks you to get your attention but this teacher (a priest since it was a Catholic school) had full on beaten my uncle. When gramps found out he just smiled, drove over to the school, kicked the door in and pistol whipped the priest. Brazen bad-assery or just damn criminal, it's up to you. I love it.

 

My paternal great-grandfather was one of the founding members of the IRA and was bayoneted to death at the supper table in front of his family by the Black and Tans.

 

Reminded me of this song.

On a related note, my Mum's side of the family are all from Northern Ireland and I'm sure she told me my uncle was shot multiple times by the IRA but managed to survive. I'll ask her about it next time we talk and try and get more details. My Grandmother also told me that, when she was a young lady, she used to sneak out at night to go 'the dance'. To get to the venue she had to cross a bridge that was used by the IRA for executions. I'm sure she said that there was a blood stain underneath the bridge every time she crossed.