I guess I write so many stories about my uncle Dale because he was such a real character. He was such a footloose and irresponsible person that things just seemed to settle on him. All of the tales that I share with you are things he has said or things that he has done. Often he was the star of his own imagination.
One day he dropped into my grandmother, Becky’s house around suppertime. After a quick greeting, he asked, “What’s for supper?”
Grandma didn’t bat an eye, but quickly replied, “Nothing, you didn’t get your name in the pot.”
Dale didn’t say a word, but shrugged his shoulders and walked away.
When Grandma got up from watching television, she went into the kitchen to check on the food that was cooking, she lifted the lid on the pot to stir the stew and there on top was a slip of paper. Dale had written the words “Dale Miner” and he had put his name in the pot.
Dale was late for work one day and when his boss asked, “Why are you late this morning, Dale?”
Never being short of words or stories, Dale told his boss, “Well, I started to drive here on route 653, but when I got to the bottom of the hill, there was a huge turtle on the roadway blocking the bridge. I couldn’t get by him and had to drive all the way to Mill Run before I could take another route to drive another way to work and that is why I am late.”
Dale was at a local gas station talking to his cronies. He was telling them that he had just driven from the state of California back to Pennsylvania without a valid driver’s license. The area’s Justice of the Peace/ magistrate just happened to be there and overheard his conversation. Dale didn’t think much about it until he was pulled over a few days later by a state trooper and cited for driving without a license.
Dale put the facts together and in his mind, he decided that the magistrate had turned him in. He was so upset that when he paid the fine to the magistrate, he had nearly every cent of it in unwrapped coins. “If it happens again, I’ll pay it in pennies and wait until the amount of the fine is counted out before I leave the office.
This is a story Dale told about himself. He was working for a lumber company. It was at a time when posts were being cut for use in the mines as supports. There were people who would cut the trees of the correct size and cut them to length. Other employees would carry them on their shoulder out to the road. The posts would be stacked until there was a pile large enough to load onto a truck and haul away. He said that the boss was on the men (and him) to work faster.
Dale saw and picked up two posts that were more slender. He placed them on his shoulder and carried them to the road, but Dale did something that made the boss ask, “Dale, what are you doing?”
Dale replied, “If you are going to work me like a horse, I’m gonna look like a horse.” Before picking up the posts, He had unzipped his trousers and had his manhood hanging out.