Pt. 6 Never Have I Ever? Hold My Coffee!

Have you ever sat around a campfire and told stories? Were they funny, scary, crazy, or a little bit of all of those? When we were young, we spent much of our time with our uncles, aunts, and cousins. Like most families, we had those who were more reserved, some who talked louder, some who were reclusive, and some who were just more fun. We had some of all of that.

We had an aunt who would cook and bake for us. We had one uncle who dressed up in scary stage makeup with another aunt, just to have fun with us. We had another that would play manhunt with us. We had another who took us junkyard picking. But this one is about campfire stories, and we had one for that too.

That being said, we had this one uncle who told the craziest, scariest, and funniest stories. He would tell them in a way that incorporated all those things and would captivate six to eight of us at a time. All while sitting around a fire in his backyard.

The craziest stories were those he told of "Frick and Frack." Now, I know these were an ice-skating duo way back in the day, but we are not talking about them. These were a couple of mischievous boys who had gotten themselves into many scrapes and situations and always found a way out. But there was always an element of fear. They would fall into a pit with unknown monsters or serial killers on the loose and in the area, get lost in the woods, be lured in by strangers, etc.

It may seem a bit benign, but our uncle had always brought an element of surprise to the story. A rustle of leaves, a banging on a pipe, scratching noises, and many others ultimately culminated into a jump scare.

One of those stories included a pit that the boys had fallen in. Our uncle dug a hole in his backyard, which helped us with our wild imaginations. He told this one in the dark and had another of our uncles hiding and making howling sounds to add to the ambiance. These stories kept us kids and even some of his neighbor's kids entertained and enthralled, often asking for another. We would talk about those stories for hours and sometimes days after.

I often wondered where it was that I had gotten bitten by the story bug. But when I look back at my youth and remember that uncle and a few others, I realize they had captivated me and inspired me to write. It's the pureness of the intent, the joy they brought, and the memories they made.

If I asked any of those cousins or brothers if they remembered those stories, I am confident they would say yes and include a favorite. I like to think that he knew these would stay with us for decades. If I asked him if he remembered, I'm sure he does.

Those stories came from a place of love, solidarity, and family. It may seem small to many, but it was big for my brothers, my mother, and myself. We talk about those stories still on occasion. The memories are always good, and often we laugh about those times. It was a time of togetherness and innocence. I wouldn't trade that for the world.

Have I ever told stories around a campfire? Yes indeed. Do you want a jump scare? Hold my uncle's coffee!