Snake Oil

A couple of years ago, when Candace, my “Belgian” daughter was visiting, she asked me repeat to her boyfriend the swimming hole story I had told her as an adolescent. I couldn’t remember, until she reminded me. It goes like this …

I said, “As a boy, I was staying with a great-uncle in Kentucky, and a bunch of us went to the local swimming hole. I jumped in first, and discovered that a nest of water moccasins had taken up residence. I immediately swam for shore, but the snakes surrounded me, closing in, and they began biting me with their deadly venomous fangs!”

Candace asked, “Oh my god, Dad! What happened?”

I told her gently, “Well, Candace. I died.”