As we were sitting around with all of our relatives this last week, mourning the loss of my Dad and just catching up, I rediscovered the joy of listening to my Tennessee relatives storytelling. I always loved it when I was a little boy. When they all get together, one after the other they regale the group with stories from the past, and everyone listens in rapt attention.
When it came my turn, I decided to share a story about my Dad. When my brother Ken and I were very little, my Dad had one of those college rings, with a big red crystal in an ornate gold setting. I was always fascinated by it, because it looked magical. One day, my Mom left Ken and me with Dad while she went out to run errands. When she left, my Dad took off his ring and handed it to me.
“There’s a genie in this ring! But he will only come out if it’s really quiet and pitch black!”
Ken and I shuffled off to the bathroom, closed the door, and shut off the light. There we sat, staring down in the dark, quiet as could be, waiting for that genie to pop out.
I’m not sure how long we were in there, but the next thing we hear is my Mom shouting, “DEL MAYS!” and my Dad laughing.
I still think that ring is magical.