In our small town of Dyer, there are numerous stories that almost everyone (at least the "old-timers") knows by heart. Some have spawned phrases that are now part of the local lexicon... The tale of "Charlie Moore's cat" spawned such a phrase.
"He's faster than Charlie Moore's cat..."
I've heard that someone was faster than Charlie Moore's cat since I was very young child. I knew that something faster than that cat must be very fast, but I'd never thought about how fast the cat really was. I imagined all the cats I've seen dash across yards and streets -- they do move pretty quickly.
A couple of years ago, after I'd moved back home, I was having supper with my parents before choir practice. My father commented that Samuel had eaten very quickly -- Samuel had moved faster than Charlie Moore's cat, in fact. As I continued to eat, I asked my father about that famous cat... He suggested I ask someone at choir practice. "Oh, well," I thought, "that's the end of that."
Toward the end of practice I *did* remember to ask about the cat... Mrs. Martha Lynn Knott began to laugh -- heartily. I knew I was in trouble then... I don't remember who actually explained the story -- I suspect that Mr. Fisher Williams finally revealed the secret.
Charlie Moore was a resident of Dyer many years ago -- before I was born (which wasn't so long really, but I got the impression that Mr. Moore was an old man when some of the older members of our church were very young). The story, such as it is, is this:
Charlie Moore's cat was so fast that he could apparently crap from the top of a light/telephone/telegraph pole (it differs with the telling), race to the ground, and dig a hole for the fecal matter to land in -- before it reached the ground... That had to be one fast cat!
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2 comments:
I love it. I lived in Kentucky for a number of years and we had a saying "older than Mr. Drury's coveralls". Such as that car is older than Mr. Drury's coveralls.
Mr. Drury lived next door to my in-laws and he bragged that he wore the same coveralls since the Great Depression.
Now, living in the Northeast, I rarely hear these types of sayings. I miss that colorful speech.
I think it's important to preserve these stories... and so many of the old folks that know them are dying off.
My father, who seems to know them all, is over 50 now. I'd like to make a project of recording and transcribing these stories before they're gone for ever. What's so funny, to me at least, is that many of the people who are the "main characters" of these stories were long dead before my father was born.
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