This is a true story told to me by my dad about my Uncle Skippy, who I really admired for his drawing skills . . . mostly beautiful women . . . and his ability to feed the squirrels by hand while sitting on the back porch and for his knowledge about the tree growing in his backyard . . . that had berries my brother and I were told to stay away from, but Uncle Skippy ate them all the time and knew they were good.
There are so many good things I can say about this man who was never married, didn’t own a car, and lived with his sister and brother-in-law most of his life.
But this article isn’t about the drawing, or the squirrels, or the berry tree.
This is about one man’s escapade on a single late afternoon that lasted into the evening . . . as far as anyone could tell.
What does this have to do with gardening, you wonder?
Just wait for it . . .
I’m not sure if I was even born yet when this happened. I’ll have to ask my dad that part, but when my dad told me about this, I was hysterical.
I knew my uncle didn’t drive and this may be one of the reasons . . . possibly THE reason . . . why he didn’t.
Apparently, as the story goes, one afternoon Skippy walked to the bar across the street and drank for hours. I was told it was only 4 or 5, but who knows? The only thing anyone knew for sure was what happened when all was said and done . . . plus, what they were told about the “process”. 😉
As the legend goes, when Skippy was done drinking for the evening he could hardly walk, but he managed to get as far as the curb . . . where he stumbled and fell onto the road.
He felt around to find a way to stand up, but he couldn’t locate where the curb was. Instead, he dragged himself across the road to the curb on the other side where he finally managed to pull himself back to a standing position . . . because of the curb his DID find.
Because of where he lived, there was a center median that split the road and protected the homes on the other side. Skippy apparently didn’t realize where he was in his drunken haze so when he crossed the median and reached the other side, he fell again . . . another curb.
Since dragging himself to the other side of the road worked before . . . he did it again.
Back in those days, traffic was nothing like it is today, so Skippy wasn’t worried about cars coming. It might have helped if a car did drive by because he might’ve had help, but that was another time . . . and no one came.
On the other side of this second street, Skippy pulled himself up again and started walking the rest of the way home.
Who knew grass cold be so dangerous?!
When he crossed the sidewalk, he apparently miscalculated something . . . like whether the house he was facing was where he lived . . . or not?
Regardless, when Skippy’s feet touched the grass he stumbled again, but this time he landed in the neighbors rose bushes, which he destroyed then from his weight crushing them down.
But . . . since dragging himself worked all night so far . . . he did it again, destroying the rose bushes even worse in the process, as well as the lower garden on the other side.
What about the thorns? I wondered the same thing, too and learned he was badly cut up and bruised. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
So . . . again with dragging and crawling. He dragged himself out of the gardens, across the neighbor’s lawn, and toward his home.
Once he finally reached his own home and got to the stairs, complete with railing, Skippy was able to pull himself up on to the porch.
But . . .it was a porch and he still had to make it to the front door.
He didn’t.
Skippy was still in a drunken stupor and exhausted from all the dragging and crawling. As a result, he fell backward, down the stairs, landing on his own front yard where he stayed and slept until the rest of the family found him in the morning.
Are you seeing the gardening part now?
But the story isn’t over!
You can imagine that all the roses, smaller flowers, and neighbor’s front lawn had to be replaced and repaired. Lowes and Home Depot didn’t exist in those days, so this work had to done by getting grass seed from the local hardware store . . . believe it or not . . . and flowers from a local nursery or neighbors or start them fresh from seeds or clippings.
Obviously, the neighbors were NOT too happy when they woke up that morning and saw all their hard work to beautify their yard . . . gone.
If this were to happen to you, or me today, I believe the first step would be to take pictures of the damage and file a police report. The second step, for some of us, would be to go to the aforementioned stores, get replacements for the plants and grass, then do the work ourselves to save money.
Saving the receipts in case they’re needed for a potential court case, of course, would be required, too. (People today are ‘sue-happy’). A court case today would probably be blown up to include all kinds of silliness.
Back then, these things were handled amiably between neighbors, as they were in this case.
And so, the legend of Skippy’s evening adventure lives on!
Personally, I prefer to remember the drawings, the squirrels, and the berry tree in the backyard. 😊