Oh, yes, Mary, I remember it, and I think you are right, that and tell them with deadpan delivery. The way my dad tells it, you never know what hit until a couple seconds after, then BAM! Then, ya scratch your head and say "Now, wait a minute!?"

The story I remember the best from the Virginian, because it had the most impact I suppose, was them swapping the babies at the dance. The Old Goose Egg Ranch still stood in the days when I was growin' up in Wyomin', in fact it was just down the road a bit from where we lived and my big brother had been out there exploring with his buddies. I was quite impressed with that and also with The Virginian Hotel which we travelled past once on the way to Grandma's in Denver. It is in Medicine Bow and still stands and they rent out rooms to this day.

Anyway, mom and dad used to play for dances and I remember first hearing that story when I was about knee high to my dad's pickup truck wheels and being a tad worried everytime I fell asleep at one of those dances. I was sure I'd get swapped, or had already been swapped, as I was the only redhead in the family. For a long time I thought I must've been adopted, then I found out my other grandma had been a red-on-the-head, too.

Then I found out they'd really just washed my hair a lot when I was little with the red clay of the surrounding hills, as they wanted me to fit in, when we moved back to Cawl-ah-ra-duh, which means "red" in Spanish. See, I was the only one not born in Colorado and my family, well....it was a matter of pride, ya see?

kat

(Oh, well, my first tall tale, needs a little work, but it was fun trying!)