Some of us in attendance had provided our hobbies/collections, some our visual—while not performable—talents, and others did actually perform. Lindsay and Ashley performed last and did a beautiful piano/vocal duet. It was wonderful to see Lindsay put herself in front of everyone and perform. For those of you who know Lindsay, that's well outside her comfort zone and she did great. She also brought in a few of her water color paintings she's done. She's only really been doing water color for about a year and only in what limited free time she has and she is getting very good. I love seeing her new paintings. They get better each time.
The branch president's wife collects collectible dolls and so she brought the 'rag doll' portion of her immense collection. President Howard said that what they brought represented a tenth of her collection, and yes, it included a vintage (and by vintage of course I mean awesome) rag doll Captain Kangaroo.
President Howard himself brought some of his collectible car figurines, but also told a story that was the only part of the show that entertained the children:
Perhaps 40 years ago, down in the bayous of Louisiana, there was a large house gently tucked away back up in e swamps and out of the minds of the local townsfolk, and they preferred it that way as the house was reportedly haunted. Most would pass their lives and never seek out the house even to glimpse from a distance. In fact, it was usually only brash, young people who ventured near the house, and typically on a dare, which is where our story begins.
Two young men began talking about the home, one as devoutly convinced of it being haunted as the other was convinced it was all a lot of hokum and nonsense. They argued for well over an hour about why it could or could not be haunted before the first boy blurted "If it's not haunted I dare you to stay the night in that house!"
"You put $100 on it and I will." the friend retorted. "There's no such things as ghosts or haunted houses. That stuff is for babies."
So the friends shook on the deal and that night the boy journeyed out to the home, taking along a giant frying pan, a large bucket of grease, a bag of fish and a pack of locally produced ginger beer. He settled into the house and as the sun began to lower in the sky he fired up a—well—fired up a fire actually, in the fireplace and began prepping his fish fry and thinking about how he might spend his $100.
It was right around ten o'clock when there came a faint tapping at the door and it swung open quick as lighting WHOOSH! (you have to imagine our big branch president making hand motions and sound effects in his still slightly tainted southern drawl). In walked a little man no more than three inches tall. He jumped right up on the table, pointed his tiny finger at the young man and cried "Yougonbeeheeahwhinjongesheeah!?"
The young man paused, a little startled at first, then retorted "Man you ain't nothin' but a figment of my imagination. You ain't but a figment." And with that he unceremoniously flicked a bottle cap at him and PUMPFH! knocked him out the window. The young man then went back to humming to himself, at times singing, and enjoying his ginger beer and fish fry.
Around eleven o'clock another, louder knock sounded at the door and it swung open a little slower this time WOWOOOOOSHEEEE! In walked an odd looking dwarfish sort of fellow, no more than three feet tall. He too jumped upon the table, brandished a finger at the young man and asked, " You gon' be heeah when Jon ges heeah?"
Again the young man paused, a little taken aback, but again retorted, almost exasperated, "Man you ain't nothing but a figment." and again he quite unceremoniously chucked an empty ginger beer bottle at the small man effectively knocking him out the window CLONK!
Again the young man settled back down and began singing and eating fish fry and burping as he enjoyed all his ginger beer. He was just beginning to feel he knew exactly how he'd like to spend his $100 when midnight rolled around.
Out on the porch he began to hear a large clank-clunking sound. A dragging, metallic sound was moving closer to the door. This time the door was pounded upon THUD! BANG! SLAM! And it creaked open very slowly. EEEEAAAAAEEEEEEEEKKKKKKAAAAA! Just beyond the doorway stood something large. It was no man. It was no less than eight feet tall and bore chains wrapped over his shoulders and around his arms. The chains hung to the ground and dragged behind him. He was covered in moss and his mouth, which hung ajar, was full of broken and yellowed teeth. Whatever it was slowly clunked and clanged it's way over to the young man before slowly raising a balled fist and then extending one large, moss covered finger to point at the young man who had dropped his ginger beer and fish fry in his lap. "YOU GON' BE HERE WHEN JON GETS HERE?!" the monster bellowed.
The young man jumped up, his head now level with the beasts belly. "Man if you ain't Jon I'm gone!"
So that was the story, though much less well told by me and without sound effects or gestures. President Howard did a great job with it and the boys loved it. They were, at the same time, scared and laughing. Lindsay's dad didn't make it to the activity, but we went to his house after the activity and he had made a giant cookie (it hadn't been finished in time for the activity).
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