Mama had great stories. My favorite was the only one I asked often for her to repeat. It has become something of an anthem in my life.
She grew up in the 1930s Appalachians where life was remote and simple but meaningful. She told the story of a simple-minded cousin named Henry who was sent by his parents to visit other members of the family.
It was a journey of several hours on foot so it required that he stop and have a meal with another family. In a burlap sack, Henry toted a baby pig which his daddy had instructed that he should give to Henry’s aunt and uncle as a gift.
via The Citizen http://www.thecitizen.com/blogs/ronda-rich/12-03-2013/be-pig-or-be-possum