Rebecca Rule
Writer, Storyteller, Humorist, Editor
"Whatever you do, make it a good story."
That Reminds Me . . .
Wherever I go people tell me stories. How wonderful!
Below are some recent additions to the collection.
Hope you enjoy them.
Laconia Public Library and Taylor Community October 29, 2024
Laconia Speaks (With a New Hampshire Accent)
November 2024
Visited Laconia twice last week. Told stories at the library one day and the next day at the Taylor Community. Both lovely places full of lovely people sharing stories and laughing together.
Sharp, too. I started each session with a trivia question from my NEW BOOK,
NH Trivia. Didn't get more than four words out of my mouth, before those sharpies were shouting out the answer. Here's how the question begins:
This sometimes rowdy event . . .
I'll finish the question for those who didn't guess the answer after four words:
This sometimes rowdy event attracts thousands to Laconia for a week each June, and is the longest- running in the country and maybe the world. What event is this? (Hint: There’s a lot of revving.)
Of course, the answer is:
Laconia Motorcycle Week.
Laconia Motorcycle Week started small back in 1916 and has been growing ever since. Around 300,000 riders from all over motor in to enjoy bike-related activities. The reverberations from Bike Week are felt statewide.
* * *
Donna, during a discussion about how one qualifies to be a “yankee” and/or a “native,” posed this riddle: “You know what I’d be if I wasn’t from New Hampshire?”
“What would you be?” we ventured.
“Ashamed of myself.”
* * *
In a contrasting story, Barbara told of her daughter who happened to be visiting Texas not long after her 21st birthday. It was kind of a big deal for the young woman to order a drink at a bar. She tried. Naturally she was carded. The barkeeper took one look at her driver’s license and called her out: “That’s a fake ID.”
“No it’s not,” said the mortified young woman.
Said the barman, “I never heard of a state called New Hampshire.”
The manager stepped in. He’d never heard of New Hampshire either, but he was moved by her sincerity. “Go ahead. Give her a drink,” he said.
* * *
The New Hampshire accent (I have one—it amps up when I tell stories) led us to a discussion of the “intrusive R.” I’d never heard the term, but Freda had. It’s what happens when people in some pockets of the state pronounce her name: Freder. But, she said (and this makes sense) the R only intrudes when her name is followed by a word beginning with a vowel. For example, “Freder is going to the grocery store,” but “Freda walks her dog every morning.” Lynda, sitting next to Freda, concurred. As do I, Rebecca, Rebeccer, or, as my mother would say when she say when I’d misbehaved: REEbeckER!
* * *
One man, whose name I did not catch, told of his father, born and raised in Ohio, who’d moved to New Hampshire in 1940 to teach at Dartmouth. Dad was looking forward to his first New Hampshire winter. He asked a local: “When would be the best time to teach my daughter to ski?”
“How old is she?” the local asked.
“Two.”
“It’s too late.”
October 17, 2024 Bartlett Public Library
In Bartlett They Give as Good as They Get
Had a grand time in Bartlett at the library which is conveniently right next to the school. Somebody was thinking ahead! I know it’s a good session when I get nearly as many stories as I give. Here are a couple cockahs about yankee traders.
I’m reminded of the ancient storyteller credo: I can’t vouch for the details of these stories but I know they’re true.
John told about a fellow named Tim Hill who had a car for sale at his garage in town. Price $100.
His buddy George haggled him down. To $75, then $50, and finally, $25.
“Deal,” George says. “You got a payment plan?”
* * *
Ty told about Errol, known for his frugality, who locked out himself out of his house. He didn’t want to break a window (glass costs money), so he got ahold of the local locksmith, known for his business acumen.
The locksmith picked the lock and opened the door.
“That’ll be $10,” he said.
“I ain’t paying $10 for two minutes work,” Erroll said.
The locksmith snapped the door closed. “That’ll be $20,” he said.
Sept. 11, 2024 Laconia Friendship Club
Two (Too) Big Families
At the Laconia Friendship Club, which meets weekly in Gilford (go figure), I met two women from Bar Harbor, which is near my camp in Maine, and we learned we had friends in common—specifically the Hatch family from Salisbury Cove and Donnell Pond. Chalk that up to the small world department.
The Hatch family included seven children, named alphabetically, beginning with Alan. Sure enough, Ella, who grew up in Rochester, Vermont, is one of nine children, also named alphabetically: Allison, Barbara, Christine, David, Ella, Frederick, Gratia, Harold, and Irene whole middle name is Jean since, somehow, Mother knew there wa’n’t going to be a J child coming along any time soon.
For vacation, there were too many kids to fit in a car, so Dad bought a rattletrap old school bus. They went all over. But the trip to Quebec proved . . . . Well, here’s what happened. Driving down from the heights of Mount Royal, the rattletrap bus lost its brakes. Dad laid on the horn to warn any vehicles on the road ahead as the bus picked up speed. The horn stuck. So that bus full of kids comes speeding and wailing into town. Finally, rolls to a stop.
A police officer was waiting: “Why did you do that?” the officer says, in French. Luckily, Dad spoke French, so he explained the situation as best he could. (Mother wasn’t happy.)
As the family headed back to Vermont, Mother said: George, that’s the end of our vacations.
And it was.
***
Ella’s story reminded Rachel of a story. (This often happens.) Her dad was out for a Sunday drive on Hurricane Road in Belmont. It’s a narrow road. Not much room for passing. He drives pretty much the whole length of it at 15 miles per hour.
The local police officer pulls Dad over and asks for his ID. “Why, Mr. Bretton,” the officer asks, “were you driving so slow?”
“Well,” Dad says, I’ve got ten children at home and I’m in no hurry to get there.
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