Please give me another story. Pretty please!
Men like to pass things down to their sons. They’re called heirlooms. And while the word heirloom might seem quirky or even nonsensical to some, it is a compound word that, in essence, when broken down into its two parts, explains the history and nature of mankind.
You’ve got the word heir, a child of your loins, stuck in front of the word loom, which is a tool. And, indeed, many heirlooms were just that, tools; valuable objects of a man’s trade, passed down to his son, who, traditionally, took up the very same trade after spending his entire childhood learning to master it.
Now, not all men are tradesmen, so it follows that not all heirlooms are tools. Some are merely sentimental objects. And, in the case of a poor man, not all of these objects are valuable; at least, not in the eyes of other men.
Such was the case with the Gilmore Heirloom Rattlesnake Boots.
I knew none of the Gilmore men personally. I only heard about ‘em from my Uncle Roy, who heard about ‘em from his daddy, who heard about ‘em from his daddy, whose daddy was a personal friend of Charles T. Gilmore the First.
This is a story that goes way back to the 1790s, when, at the age of 17, Charles Gilmore the First and his young bride, Madeline, settled just outside of old Boondorf, Idaho, taking up residence in a little wooden cabin that had been hastily built and abandoned shortly thereafter by a person or persons unknown.
Now, Charles the First never met his daddy and didn’t possess any particular skills, having had no training. He scraped out a livin’ hiring himself out to various farmers, farriers, miners, and merchandizers, for a dollar a week; low wages, even for those times. But it was said back then that Maddie could feed an entire army on an ounce of grain and the head of one small trout, and, despite the tight purse-strings, she and Charles managed to raise 8 healthy children.
They were all girls, save for the last one; Charles T. Gilmore the Second. His sisters were all lovely in appearance and manner, and all married reasonably well, and didn’t go wanting for much thereafter. Charles II, however, being heir to no particular trade nor skill learned from his daddy, was destined to remain poor. And the only loom handed down to Charles the Second on the day that Charles the First passed-on was the pair of boots his daddy wore his whole working life.
Now, what ended Charles the First was a rattlesnake bite. On that fateful day, he was watchin’ over his employer’s mules as they grazed on whatever they could plunder in a remote field just outside of Boondorf, when a rattler snuck up on ‘im and bit his right ankle, right through those same hundred-percent cowhide boots.
You could say those boots held a lot of sentimental value for Charles the Second, but, truth be told, it was the first pair of footwear he owned since the age of 3, when he’d well-outgrown the baby slippers that Maddie cobbled for her first-born. She made them from a piece of her grandmother’s satin weddin’ dress - an heirloom that Maddie had to split with her seven sisters.
Poor as he was, Charles the Second managed to find a bride, and they had 4 children, the first one being a son who was named Charles T. Gilmore the Third. Now, tragic as it was that Charles I died from a rattlesnake bite, damned if Charles II didn’t go the same way! Bit in the right ankle, just like his daddy, and in the prime of his life.
So, Charles the Third, now in possession of those boots, wore them with pride as he eked out a living until
he was struck down by a rattlesnake bite to the right ankle, and left those boots to a young Charles the Fourth.
Well, I happen to stop in the town of Boondorf, Idaho to visit a tavern on the day that young Charles T. Gilmore the Fourth was presented with those infamous boots during a fancy outdoor ceremony organized by the city mayor, and having stepped out to see what all the commotion was about, was witness to it. And after some of the townsfolk who’d gathered for this ceremony apprised me of the bleak history of those boots, a story I’d heard before and found incredible, I sensed that young Charles the Fourth was feelin’ more the recipient of a family curse than a renowned family heirloom, for he shook visibly as the mayor handed him those ancestral boots…worn pretty thin by this time, I must add.
“Hold on there!” I yelled from the crowd. I then walked purposefully through the gathering townspeople, pushing aside a number of balloons, and brushing right passed a very nervous Charles T. Gilmore the Fourth to stand at the mayor’s festooned podium, where I adjusted the microphone and began, “Now, let me get this straight…”
“You’re tellin’ me that this boy’s great-great-great gampa, Charles T. Gilmore the First, was fatally bitten on his right ankle through this very boot.” I held up the boot that four generations of Gilmores had worn on their right foot.
“And you’re tellin’ me that every Charles T. Gilmore after him, who wore this very boot, met the same fate?”
A growing crowd of Boondorf, Idahoands watched on as I reached inside that right-foot boot and felt around, and only minutes later, pulled out a set of rattlesnake fangs that had been embedded in the interior of its ankle.
I held the fangs up over my head, and the crowd gasped. “Here’s your culprit!” I exclaimed, and the crowd cheered, and young Charles T. Gilmore the Fourth fainted…from relief, I assume, knowing he’d die non-too-soon, and most likely from natural causes.
