Posted on Tuesday, 29 November 2011

My dad emailed me this story.  “When I was in Sieper for Uncle Cecil’s funeral we were sitting around in the evening and talking about some of the things that had happened in “olden times”.  The subject of the Holts came up.    Now the Holts were a Faulkneresque clan that lived across Sieper Creek from us.  They were very clannish bullies and at best, marginally honest.  PawPaw hated the Holts with a passion.  One day after I had left home (the likely reason that I had not heard the story) he found that some of the Holts’ hogs had broken into our field and were rooting around in the pasture and field.  He told one of the Holts that their hogs had broken into our field.  Holt said, “Well, Houston, you need to fix your fence.”       Daddy was never a Susan Sarandon type pacifist.  He turned around and went home, got his rifle and started shooting those hogs.  One of the Holts heard the shooting and ran over and saw that Daddy was shooting their hogs.  He said, “What in the world are you doing?” Daddy said, “I am fixing my fence.”     End of problem.”

My dad emailed me this story. 

“When I was in Sieper for Uncle Cecil’s funeral we were sitting around in the evening and talking about some of the things that had happened in “olden times”.  The subject of the Holts came up. 

 

Now the Holts were a Faulkneresque clan that lived across Sieper Creek from us.  They were very clannish bullies and at best, marginally honest.  PawPaw hated the Holts with a passion.  One day after I had left home (the likely reason that I had not heard the story) he found that some of the Holts’ hogs had broken into our field and were rooting around in the pasture and field.  He told one of the Holts that their hogs had broken into our field.  Holt said, “Well, Houston, you need to fix your fence.” 

 

   Daddy was never a Susan Sarandon type pacifist.  He turned around and went home, got his rifle and started shooting those hogs.  One of the Holts heard the shooting and ran over and saw that Daddy was shooting their hogs.  He said, “What in the world are you doing?” Daddy said, “I am fixing my fence.” 

 

 End of problem.”


Short URL 13 notes

  1. rizzottipotty said: love it.
  2. farlizzle reblogged this from juliebrister and added:
    This is fantastic.
  3. juliebrister posted this
I am Julie Brister. I'm an actor, writer and improv teacher living in Los Angeles. I'm currently writing a novel.

I like campfires, board games, super spicy Thai food, the desert, creepy puppets, cats, wearing socks wrong side out, California living, napkins, artsy fartsy stuff, reading novels, the caramel corn at the Arclight, vegetable purees, French pop, horseys, good weird art, gulpy summer wine, skulls, comfy shoes, chile rellenos, bold accessories, kale salad, Jacaranda trees, lakeside vacations, Kubrick, true crime stories, kitty cat on cold feet, green and woodsy smells, funky cowboy boots, redwood trees, Trader Joe's, eavesdropping on people arguing in public, Bach, travel fantasies, groovy rugs, dining al fresco, memories of camp, doggies, saffron, long chats, hummingbirds, mean old nuns, old timey stuff, cloudy days, art deco LA, vintage cocktails, scary things, drive-thru car washes, bougie candles, Antiques Roadshow, dusk, english muffins, squeezy hugs, fluffy towels, Diane Arbus, Frito pie, thunderstorms, Victoriana, cinnamon, Mexican knick knacks, schadenfreude, owls, good manners, Texas, interesting pottery, jersey knit sheets, NPR, road trips, orange and chocolate together, good stemware, layering, Southern literature, New Orleans, people watching, Hitchcock movies, paint by numbers, Japanese incense, needle crafts, Nazi documentaries and cheese.

I dislike d-bags, j-holes and flip flops.


email: juliebrister@gmail.com