One of his favorites was one about a trip he and my grandmother were on, driving through Texas. A couple of hours outside of Dallas, they saw a sign that indicated Mexia was several miles ahead. This immediately sparked an intense debate on the pronunciation of the name "Mexia." Was it Muh-hay-uh or was it Mek-see-uh?

They continued their "discussion" as they arrived in Mexia and pulled into the first restaurant they found. As they placed their order at the counter, Granddaddy realized that the teenaged girl taking their order would likely know how the town's name was pronounced.

"Young lady, could you settle a question between me and my wife?"

"Sure," the girl nodded.

"One of us is a little confused about how you pronounce the name of this place. Could you pronounce it slowly for us?

And without hesitation, the girl slowly said, "D-A-I-R-Y Q-U-E-E-N."

Everyone in my family had heard that story at least a dozen times, and we simply accepted it as part of family lore.

Fast forward twenty years. My cousins and I were sitting across from each other at dinner, the day of my grandmother's funeral earlier this month, when the topic came up again. We were chortling over it when my mother turned to us and said, "Daddy always liked that joke."

I think the Earth stopped spinning for a split second. There was silence. My cousins looked at each other, then at me. I looked at my brother and sister-in-law. We were all stunned silent.

"That's a joke?" I asked my mother, indignantly.

"Of course it's a joke," my mother replied.

I was just certain that my mother did not know what she was talking about. Once I got back to civilization, somewhere where they had the internet and electricity and running water, I would look that up. It couldn't be a joke...it was family history!

A few days later, I arrived home. After I had plowed through my backlog of email and unpacked, I searched Google to see if it was somewhere online. It didn't take long:

me and a buddy were driving along when we came into mexia.
he said "look, we're in mexia" (mex-ee-uh)
i said "no, it's pronounced mexia" (mu-hay-uh)
he said "no, it's mexia" (mex-ee-uh)
i said "NO, it's mexia" (mu-hay-uh)
he said well pull over here and let me ask someone who lives here. so i pulled over and he went in and told the girl behind the counter "now very slowly, pronounce the name of this place"
she said "D-A-I-R-Y Q-U-E-E-N"

found here and here, amongst hundreds of other places online.

What are you going to tell me now? That I'm adopted?

I guess I can't blame Granddaddy; he told the joke in such a way that all four grandchildren (and I'm sure many other friends and family members) thought this had actually happened.

Ah, the secrets and Earth-shattering events that emerge from such family gatherings...and the deception goes on, through the generations. At least my brother and I were able to create a new family secret by successfully convincing our mother that Hamwinkies are an actual product.