Actually, I learned a lot from him. He had about fifty hunting Beagles, and he would throw me into the back of his pickup and take me out to the woods with him. He would always stop at the local tavern on the way back, and I would sit in the back of the truck with 10-15 dogs while he got hammered. From him I learned (1) how to occupy myself for hours without getting bored, and (2) not to tell tales, particularly to my great-grandmother (the art of nondisclosure).

Oh, Ralph, the guy also chewed tobacco, and spit it into another Maxwell House can. I was always glad he didn't lose his eyesight and confuse the two cans.

Twybil