The Legend of Old Virge

The mix of generations at family get-togethers tend to bring out the best (or worst) of family legends.  This was very true at an impromptu gathering of the Campbell clan over the week-end.


The groaning plates of food had been reduced to smears and all the current gossip had been chewed up and spit out,  when the talk turned to memories of the family members who weren't with us any more.  Having recently been bitten with the genealogy bug, I started quizzing Hubby's cousin about the location of the old Campbell cemetery.  That led us to talk about Hubby's grandfather, Virgil. 


At the mention of his name, all the women shared a "look" and a little smile.  A quick witted teen, catching the glance, demanded.  "What was the funny look about?  What is the story?"  Laughing, a granddaughter replied, "Which one?  We can do Granddaddy Campbell stories all day!"


And the stories flowed....


You see, Granddaddy Campbell loved women.


He also loved life and living it to the fullest. 


The two often collided, with hilarious results.


Now before you get the wrong idea, he wasn't a rogue or a philanderer, he just liked females.  All shapes, sizes, types, or age.  To him they were all worthy of his outrageous flirtations and compliments.  They, in turn, bloomed and fluttered under his attentions.  Old Maids would simper, matrons would preen, young mothers would blush, and little girls would crow with delight at his comments and roving gaze. 


He was a handsome man, even when I met him after I started dating Hubby, the middle of his three grandsons.  Tall, with a quick smile, laughing bright blue eyes, and thick, pure white hair that fell over his forehead in a Superman curl, he was still dashing. Granny Campbell was a tall, dignified woman.  Gracious, but reserved, she seldom reacted to his antics.  I often wondered, if inside, she was laughing.  I could see her in my imagination, like Grandma on the Walton's TV show, smacking him on the arm, and muttering "old fool".  She must have had a hidden twinkle or she would have poisoned his pork chops!


His granddaughter started by telling of her wedding day.  Granddaddy, proud as punch of his only granddaughter, placed himself at the end of the receiving line at the reception.  (A pause here to explain to the younger family members what a receiving line was.)  As each woman proceeded down the line, greeting the bride and groom, the bride's parents, then the groom's parents, they came to Granddaddy.  With a roguish smile, he would introduce himself and proceed to give them a warm hug as a welcome.  If that went well, he would place a fond, grandfatherly kiss on the smooth cheek.  Again, with a tender, grandfatherly look, he would pat her gently.  What would have gotten a younger man a sharp reprimand, received only a rueful glance and a giggle.  He had a wonderful time welcoming the ladies, as he put it.


Next, a great-granddaughter, retold the family legendary story of Granddaddy and Grandma's trip to California on the train.  As evening approached, they retired to the Pullman car of the train to get some rest for the coming day.  (A pause here to explain what a Pullman sleeper car was.)  During the night, Granddaddy was awakened by a call of nature.  Quietly, he slid out of his berth and proceeded down the aisle of the curtained sleeping compartments to the restroom.  Finishing his business he then returned to his berth to complete his night's sleep.  Feeling chilled by his ramble, he reached over to pull a portion of Granny's dress skirt over his knees....only to discover that the skirt didn't belong to Granny!  The report was, that after being promptly banished from the unamused ladies' berth, he crawled back down the aisle to Granny.  No one could ever get him to admit whether the mix-up was accidental or intentional!


I laughed and added that the challenge of dating Hubby was the ritual visit to his grandparents.  We would drive right through the little town they lived in on our way back to college after a visit home.  Naturally, we would be expected to stop and visit.  Granddaddy and Granny would be ensconced in their chairs in the little living room.  Greeting us warmly, he would throw open his arms and beam, "Come give an old man a hug!" he would command.  He would apologize for not getting up, citing an old man's stiffness as an excuse.  The result was a dance to bend over in the short skirts of the late sixties, give a hug, and escape before his roaming hands had patted their way down to bare leg.  He would look so genuinely happy to see you (or get a pat in) that it was impossible to be irritated with him.


My sister-in-law chimed in that the one thing he couldn't resist was a garter.  (Pause here to explain to the youngsters the complexities of a garter belt) (Pause again to realize we lost them at "stockings" much less garter belts!)  It seems that her challenge was to get by him without his wandering hands encountering the lump of her garter.  If he found it, he would chortle with glee and proceed to grab it through her skirt and snap it resoundingly!  He thought this was hilarious!


At this point I threw my hand in the air to be counted, with laughter bubbling up.  I, too, had been a victim of the garter snap!! 


By now we were all talking and laughing at once.  I suspect the youngsters are a little confused by our delight in this old rascal, but once you met him you had to love him. (Besides, apples don't fall far from the tree.  I suspect a few of the old man's genes are alive and well in his heirs!)


I also suspect the youngsters are more than a "little" confused by the strange facets of a life gone by, like Pullman cars and garter belts.  How did our world change so fast...and how did we wind up the "old" ones?