This may seem like a strange title for a story, but as you will see, it is appropriate. This happened a long time ago, before I knew my stepfather. Cloy Weishuhn was of Dutch extraction. He was a mountain of a man, weighing in at about 450 pounds when he was dieting and closer to 500 pounds on a bad day. He was a used car salesman and a good one. One day he sold a used car with no motor in it. When the new owner tried to drive it away, and hit the starter, nothing happened. The motor has been taken out for repairs. With it installed, he drove off the lot, happy and a little wiser. A story was born.

I can still hear him telling this tale. My stepfather was an accomplished storyteller, or should I say a bearer of tall tales? I could sit and listen to him for hours. We became good friends. My Dad was of the old school, up tight and serious. Cloy was fun.

There is a small town in the upper part of lower Michigan on the coast of Lake Huron called Tawas. In his younger years, Cloy spent a lot of time there, fishing or just hanging out. He had a friend who ran a hotel at Tawas. This was before the days of motels. Cloy would stay at the hotel whenever he was in the area.

The story I want to tell you about is what happened one day when he drove up to the hotel. He noticed his friend coming out the front door with a bowl of chopped raw cabbage in his hands. Now, that was a strange thing to be carrying around. Where was he going with it? So Cloy asked him “What's with the cabbage?” Looking down at the cabbage and then off to where his dogs were in a pen, he replied, “It's for the dogs?” “I didn't know dogs ate cabbage?“ Cloy commented. Wouldn't you think cabbage was a little strange for dog food? I would. They are meat eaters. Not a vegetarian in the bunch.

“I give it to them. It's up to them, “ was the strange answer.

Over the years we have had many laughs over this old story. It made no sense. I guess that is why my family liked it. Hey, there's another story in there somewhere, but I won't enter that door today. I guess the point I want to make is that I lovingly remember my stepfather Cloy. Do you have someone in your past like him? Someone who was a warm kind person but just a mite strange. I think we all do. As a suggestion, why not tell a story or two about someone long gone. We are so caught up in the here and now that we forget the incidents that made our families what they are and we forget how we got here. Tell a story tonight around the supper table. The family will enjoy it. One story will lead to another. Your family's ancestors will become more than just faded pictures in an old photo album.