A Quick Story

On a whim, We wanted Mexican chicken soup tonight.  I went to the closest Mexican restaurant to pick up two to-go orders.

I had my Kennesaw Mountain ball cap on.  The waitress that waited on me said she was glad to see somebody away from the Mountain that likes it enough to have a cap with its name.  She said she walks to the top every morning.  I told her good for her, I haven't walked to the top in two years.

Then I told her the real reason I had the cap:  In 1864 my great grandfather William Hunter was shot in the knee while getting water at a spring.  His friend, by him, was shot in the forehead, being killed instantly.  Another friend started running and the Yankee ran by him chasing the other guy.  He recuperated in a private residence in Woodstock.  After the war was over in about a year was about the time he healed, he walked home back to his home in Franklin, North Carolina.  Then he and his uncle killed a man arguing about politics.  The man they killed fought for the north.  They fled, they were wanted for murder.  My great grandfather first went to Texas then he decided to return to Woodstock because he made friends there while recuperating.  He changed his last name to Hunter, which is probably OK, because court records show is mother sued Jason Henderson Hunter in 1842 (the year William was born) for Bastardy and won.

The waitress was spellbound.

Not only did I give her a tip, but also a high adventure story, and about $1.00 worth of a history lesson.

I gathered my to-go bags and she looked down at my charge ticket and "Thank you, er-Mr. HUNTER."

If she learned anything, maybe it will be never complement a stranger about his hat.