Alien Contact on Grandfather Mountain

We’d planned to hike Grandfather Mountain, from top to bottom, a fabulous 4-hour trek, but recent bear activity had closed the trails.

So we drove up.

On the way, we came to a little wayside cave. I stopped the car, we Huneycutts and my mother all got out to take in nature’s beauty. The site was a tad tarnished by some graffiti painted on a huge rock — many layers, letters and “coats”.

Suddenly, my 11-year old son, Basil said: “Look! It says Basil!”

Dubious of how many fellows named Basil, with a spray can and a mind for mischief, had traveled up the tallest peak on the eastern escarpment of the Blue Ridge Mountains, we all said, “Uhn-uh …”

He said, “Yes it does … see, B – A – S – …”

His older sister chimed in, “Basil, that’s a T not an I. That doesn’t say Basil.”

“Okay! Everybody back in the car!” Dad cried.

As he was piling back into the car, Basil said: “Dad! I thought the aliens were trying to contact me!”

He then said, “What’s spelled B-A-S-T-A-R …”

With an affected voice, building on the “alien theme”, I said: “Basil … I am your father!”