{"id":1075,"date":"2007-05-07T08:00:00","date_gmt":"2007-05-07T08:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/orthodixie\/2007\/05\/the-continuing-saga-of-billy-mcgillicutty.html"},"modified":"2007-05-07T08:00:00","modified_gmt":"2007-05-07T08:00:00","slug":"the-continuing-saga-of-billy-mcgillicutty","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/orthodixie\/2007\/05\/the-continuing-saga-of-billy-mcgillicutty.html","title":{"rendered":"The Continuing Saga of Billy McGillicutty"},"content":{"rendered":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional\/\/EN\" \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/REC-html40\/loose.dtd\">\n<html><head><meta http-equiv=\"content-type\" content=\"text\/html; charset=utf-8\"><meta http-equiv=\"content-type\" content=\"text\/html; charset=utf-8\"><\/head><body><p><a href=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/399\/blogger\/_iTncioBQZNk\/Rj6M0f6BPEI\/AAAAAAAAALs\/Eq5XKCHbEGY\/s1600-h\/huntsv-8.jpg\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\"><img decoding=\"async\" alt=\"Indeed they do!  Check out the third pic down -- enlarge.\" src=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/399\/blogger\/_iTncioBQZNk\/Rj6M0f6BPEI\/AAAAAAAAALs\/Eq5XKCHbEGY\/s320\/huntsv-8.jpg\" border=\"0\"><\/a><em><span style=\"font-size:85%\">The following story has nothing to do with Christianity, forgive me; rather, it is a campfire tale. That said \u2013 <strong>You have been warned<\/strong> \u2013 here\u2019s the unabridged version of an impromptu yarn spun on our recent camping trip to <a href=\"http:\/\/www.tpwd.state.tx.us\/spdest\/findadest\/parks\/huntsville\/\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\">Huntsville State Park<\/a>. (Hover over the pics for captions; click to enlarge).<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size:180%;color:#ff0000\">M<\/span>y son and I arrived ahead of the girls due to a middle school concert last Thursday evening. As we went to set up the tent, I spotted what looked like part of a root sticking out of the ground. I kicked it \u2013 repeatedly, because it budged. Eventually I succeeded in uprooting a very old wooden tent peg with a piece of canvas still tied around it. I threw it to the side, thinking no more of it.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/399\/blogger\/_iTncioBQZNk\/Rj6Mzf6BPCI\/AAAAAAAAALc\/laD_2kyZXYw\/s1600-h\/huntsv-6.jpg\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\"><img decoding=\"async\" alt=\"A pic of our camp site taken from the canoe.\" src=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/399\/blogger\/_iTncioBQZNk\/Rj6Mzf6BPCI\/AAAAAAAAALc\/laD_2kyZXYw\/s320\/huntsv-6.jpg\" border=\"0\"><\/a>There were tornado warnings to the south of us, thunder and lightning all around. This coupled with the approach of dusk hastened our set-up endeavors. We\u2019d bought some firewood, which we prudently stacked under the picnic table to keep it dry. As I hastened to find some small fire-starter sticks, my eyes once again landed on the old tent peg. I picked it up only to realize it was soaked, through and through \u2013 not even good for kindling.<\/p>\n<p><em><strong>In the end<\/strong><\/em>, we had a good trip: the kids rode their bikes, we canoed, hiked, and all the other good things that camping offers.<\/p>\n<p>I\u2019d already told the kids on our final evening that we would not have a fire the next morning because, due to all the rain they\u2019d had in Huntsville earlier in the week, it\u2019d take too long to get a fire going \u2013 especially when we\u2019d be breaking camp after breakfast.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/399\/blogger\/_iTncioBQZNk\/Rj6Mz_6BPDI\/AAAAAAAAALk\/nsRPFMKENUQ\/s1600-h\/huntsv-7.jpg\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\"><img decoding=\"async\" alt=\"The Park Ranger said an alligator this size was probably 2 years old.\" src=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/399\/blogger\/_iTncioBQZNk\/Rj6Mz_6BPDI\/AAAAAAAAALk\/nsRPFMKENUQ\/s320\/huntsv-7.jpg\" border=\"0\"><\/a>Undeterred and somewhat forgetful, my 9-year old son walked straight to the fire pit immediately after rising on Saturday and began arranging twigs and such. I reminded him of the fire-less plan \u2026<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat? No more s\u2019mores? But, Dad!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Okay. So, I caved.<\/p>\n<p>In our struggle to burn stuff that would cooperate, I noticed the old tent peg and threw it in among the fledgling flames. Later, the kids noticed that the peg was not burning \u2013 no matter the increased heat of the campfire.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/399\/blogger\/_iTncioBQZNk\/Rj6M0_6BPFI\/AAAAAAAAAL0\/uA870dW3OmI\/s1600-h\/huntsv-9.jpg\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\"><img decoding=\"async\" alt=\"A very tall pine impressed on our hike.\" src=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/399\/blogger\/_iTncioBQZNk\/Rj6M0_6BPFI\/AAAAAAAAAL0\/uA870dW3OmI\/s320\/huntsv-9.jpg\" border=\"0\"><\/a><strong>Boy:<\/strong> \u201cDad? Why won\u2019t that stick burn?\u201d<\/p>\n<p><strong>Dad:<\/strong> \u201cBecause \u2026 that\u2019s the stick of Billy McGillicutty who\u2019s buried beneath that very spot where our fire now burns.\u201d<\/p>\n<p><strong>Boy:<\/strong> \u201cDa-a-a-a-ad!\u201d<\/p>\n<p><strong>Dad:<\/strong> \u201cIt\u2019s true. Little Billy McGillicutty never had any friends and his parents didn\u2019t seem to love him. They loved to camp; but him, they ignored. Then one day he befriended that piece of wood \u2026 that tent peg. He ran around everywhere talking to that piece of wood. It\u2019s sad what happened. Really.<\/p>\n<p><strong>Girl:<\/strong> \u201cAre you making this up?\u201d<\/p>\n<p><strong>Boy:<\/strong> \u201cDad \u2026 what happened to him?\u201d<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/399\/blogger\/_iTncioBQZNk\/Rj6M1v6BPGI\/AAAAAAAAAL8\/6a5r-MongU8\/s1600-h\/huntsv-10.jpg\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\"><img decoding=\"async\" alt=\"The roots of the pine strike a gnarly pose.\" src=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/399\/blogger\/_iTncioBQZNk\/Rj6M1v6BPGI\/AAAAAAAAAL8\/6a5r-MongU8\/s320\/huntsv-10.jpg\" border=\"0\"><\/a><strong>Dad:<\/strong> \u201cWell \u2026 you know how I told you that he would run around with that tent peg? Well, his mom would yell at him telling him not to run with that stob in his hands or he\u2019d put his eye out. His dad? Well, his dad had been drinking and yelled \u2013 \u2018Boy! Bring me back my tent peg or I\u2019ll kill you!\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n<p><strong>Boy:<\/strong> \u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n<p><strong>Dad:<\/strong> \u201cHe killed him.\u201d<\/p>\n<p><strong>Girl:<\/strong> \u201cDad. Really. Are you making this up?\u201d<\/p>\n<p><strong>Dad:<\/strong> \u201cThe locals say Billy made a pact with that old stick. He told the tent peg that they were inseparable \u2013 he would never leave that piece of wood. And some say that Billy McGillicutty believed that the peg promised to never leave him \u2026<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/399\/blogger\/_iTncioBQZNk\/Rj6Lr_6BO9I\/AAAAAAAAAK0\/ZF1QC71NQLc\/s1600-h\/huntsv-1.jpg\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\"><img decoding=\"async\" alt=\"A view from our picnic table looking out at Lake Raven.\" src=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/399\/blogger\/_iTncioBQZNk\/Rj6Lr_6BO9I\/AAAAAAAAAK0\/ZF1QC71NQLc\/s320\/huntsv-1.jpg\" border=\"0\"><\/a>He\u2019s buried right there on that spot where the fire now burns. And that old tent peg resurfaces from time to time and, although many campers think to burn it during their holidays, it always disappoints \u2026 it never burns. It just silently guards the body of its buddy, Billy McGillicutty.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/399\/blogger\/_iTncioBQZNk\/Rj6Ls_6BO_I\/AAAAAAAAALE\/H6qjsduOXqM\/s1600-h\/huntsv-3.jpg\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\"><img decoding=\"async\" alt=\"Listen close and you can hear the wildlife.\" src=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/399\/blogger\/_iTncioBQZNk\/Rj6Ls_6BO_I\/AAAAAAAAALE\/H6qjsduOXqM\/s320\/huntsv-3.jpg\" border=\"0\"><\/a>They say the mother went crazy when her son\u2019s life was cut short. She was sent to the state mental hospital \u2026 his dad was sent to prison. Years later, upon her release, the first place she came to was right here, to this very spot. Seems Billy\u2019s pop was sprung on the same day. She never heard it coming \u2026 the husband, the fury, the axe.<\/p>\n<p>The old peg, thus, guards her grave here, too.\u201d<\/p>\n<p><em>There was a long pause. My eyes were squinting due to the fire\u2019s smoke \u2026<\/em> <strong>finally:<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>Girl:<\/strong> \u201cDad, did you just make that up?\u201d<\/p>\n<p><strong>Dad:<\/strong> \u201cYep.\u201d<\/p>\n<p><strong>Boy:<\/strong> \u201cDad! Are you serious? You just made that up?\u201d<\/p>\n<p><strong>Mom<\/strong> <em>(from the picnic table)<\/em><strong>:<\/strong> \u201cWhat are y\u2019all talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n<p><strong>Girl:<\/strong> \u201cDad just made up a story \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/399\/blogger\/_iTncioBQZNk\/Rj6Ltv6BPBI\/AAAAAAAAALU\/IzGfeuMj8P0\/s1600-h\/huntsv-5.jpg\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\"><img decoding=\"async\" alt=\"Did I mention that the Huntsville State Prison was nearby this nature haven?\" src=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/399\/blogger\/_iTncioBQZNk\/Rj6Ltv6BPBI\/AAAAAAAAALU\/IzGfeuMj8P0\/s320\/huntsv-5.jpg\" border=\"0\"><\/a>There was a longer pause. Almost on cue, as if in a movie, my son reached down into the fire and pulled the barely charred peg out and laid it reverently on the ground beside the firepit. I looked at him with a raised eyebrow \u2026<\/p>\n<p><strong>Boy:<\/strong> \u201cDad! I know you just made it up \u2026 but, I kinda think we shouldn\u2019t burn it.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>I laughed. We all went into mega-camp-breaking-mode.<\/p>\n<p>An hour or so later, we\u2019re all loaded up and my son and I are awaiting the females to return from the restrooms \u2026<\/p>\n<p><strong>Boy:<\/strong> \u201cDad, did you really just make that story up?\u201d<\/p>\n<p><strong>Dad:<\/strong> \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n<p><strong>Boy:<\/strong> \u201cUh \u2026 well \u2026 can I take that old tent peg home? I mean, do you think it would be okay?\u201d<\/p>\n<p><strong>Dad:<\/strong> \u201cSure, son.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Fast-forward a couple hours \u2026 back at home, unpacking the van \u2026 oldest daughter is minding her own business when Boy taps her on the shoulder and she turns and squeaks at the same time. There he stands holding the only friend of Billy McGillicutty.<\/p>\n<p><em>True of false, it never fails: Boys and their sticks, girls and their squeaks, old men and their tales \u2026<br><\/em><br><strong><em>Camping.<br><\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n<p><em><span style=\"font-size:78%\"><strong>NOTE:<\/strong> The name \u201cBilly McGillicutty\u201d just popped into my head when telling the tale and is not connected to any other works using the name.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The following story has nothing to do with Christianity, forgive me; rather, it is a campfire tale. That said \u2013 You have been warned \u2013 here\u2019s the unabridged version of an impromptu yarn spun on our recent camping trip to Huntsville State Park. (Hover over the pics for captions; click to enlarge). My son and [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1691,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1075","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v21.1 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>The Continuing Saga of Billy McGillicutty<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"The following story has nothing to do with Christianity, forgive me; rather, it is a campfire tale. 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