Muffection and the Permanent Tether Ball
Here is Something Big, Bigger Than all the "Troubles". . . especially the ones that hit all of us in 2020: you know the ones I am talking about. . .
In Memoriam — To Those Who Came Before Us
My Grandmother passed away one year ago Friday at the age of 95 and three-quarters. I miss her every day, though I know she is with me, watching over, whispering to me in the quiet before sunrise (“wake up little one, time to meet the brand new day, you got this!”), helping with outfit selection (“no, no, not the purple one — you are not a tulip!”). Same with my Grandfather — I mean still with me — helping guide me. He died suddenly, “unexpectedly”, while on a horse, tending to his cattle — in 1986. I will write about that in a future episode.
Here is what also comforts me in a big bright way. Have you ever read those stories about folks who technically died but were brought back to life? Wherein, they describe a person they knew from the past, emerging out of the bright light, taking them gently by the hand, and guiding them to the next world? I know my Grandfather held my Grandmother’s hand as they walked together into Heaven. I can hear them talking and laughing as they fade into the light. I tear up and get all goose-bumpily thinking about it. Then I smile.
The picture below is from Easter 2021, the second to the last time I would see her. The final time was at a tree lighting later that year. I will write about that during the holidays.
Photo Courtesy of PFFK#7
The Knife, The Rat & The Trombone
Today’s episode is about some key events in the five or so years leading up to her passing.
The Knife
Christmas Day 2019 we were at my house, you know #6 Accosted, Amarillo, TX. Typically I would spend days throughout the year with my Grandmother, just the two of us. Not this time.
Even back then — before the troubles — it was rare to spend Christmas with my family. Partly because getting to ‘Marillo usually required two or three flights, the last being one of those commuter flights which are usually delayed 110% of the time. Or you can take one flight to Dallas and then drive a million years through scenic North Texas. Seriously, I can understand how the early settlers felt. Amarillo, by the way, means “yellow” in Spanish. And, if you’ve been anywhere near Amarillo, you’ll understand why.
But mainly because — subconsciously — I didn’t really like them much. Consciously, of course, I thought I loved them and they back.
This Christmas morning we were with my 2nd niece. She’s the kind hearted rebel — smart, observant, and knows just what question to ask to get an adult to give up in fear or shame.
Like the time she asked me why one of my teeth was longer than the others. Her technique doesn’t work on me, though. I said they all used to be the same length, but some gophers chiseled the other ones down when I was sleeping one night. You know, I said, I was about her age when it happened, so she better keep an eye out for them gophers!
As graceful as she is, she knocked over Hannibal’s paper towel holder. It was a Mckenzie Childs, if I remember that right. This set off a series of fortunate events and happenings which is still playing out today.
Dolphyn (not a real dolphin) said “I think I can fix it, do you have a small screw and a pocket knife? I’ll place the top back on.” We were in the kitchen. Where to start in the #6 Accosted kitchen . . . There is a catch all drawer, that had been catching-all since 1991. Looking for a small screw, I found something else.
At the back of the drawer, there was my Grandfather’s gold pocket knife, like it was the first thing ever put in that drawer. My jaw dropped as I looked over his engraved initials on the front and the back was engraved with “From [Me] 1977” — the year I was born.
I started shaking and teared up. I proclaimed that this was the best Christmas gift ever.
Then Dolphyn whispered “your Granddad is trying to tell you something”.
“Like what is he trying to tell me?”, I asked.
“I don’t know”, said Dolphyn quietly, slowly massaging the knife as if talking to it, “but it’s big.”
“How big?”, I asked.
“I don’t know”, was the response, “but it’s big. Oh yeah, and one more thing, he came to you through your niece, who is also connected”.
When I showed the knife to my Grandmother later that same Christmas day, she told me my Grandfather carried that knife in his pocket everyday when he was working. I teared up again.
The knife has been with me ever since while the thought of “how big” has continued to play out.
Here is that exact same knife.
How did that knife got in that drawer, you ask? I have a few suggestions. I reckon it was a trinket, which my mom, Hannibal, “palmed” when my Grandfather died. She kept it with her until we moved to ‘Marillo, where she tossed in that drawer, as a constant yet hidden reminder of what she had done, how proud of herself she was for doing it, and how nobody else knew. Until I found it. In a Future Episode . . . to be discussed.
Oh, by the way, we fixed that paper towel holder. Still works.
Here Come Ole Rodent
So, back to Christmas Day, 2019, which fell on the 25th that year.
My Aunt — Mrs. Gomer — arranged a Christmas dinner at the Amarillo Church of Christ Fellowship Hall for the broader family — my Aunts, Uncles, their kids and grandkids where there. I think it was four generations total. I have a large family, large in so many ways and there is also quite a bit of “small” in there too, if you know what I mean, probably like most families.
Immediately we latched onto my Grandmother, and sat at her table. We were, in fact, the only ones to sit at her table. I think her own kids and their offspring were afraid of her. Not me! We always had the best times. Anyway, the other grandkids call her Muff or Muffy. So, she is “The Muffection” of this story. How she got that nickname goes back to a story told to me as follows: when my Uncle was just a toddler, learning to talk, instead of saying “puppy” it came out as “muffy”, as in “the muffy knocked me over, wah wah wah”.
Somehow my Grandmother managed to get the many tins of her homemade candy to the Church of Christ. One day, I will share her “poppycock” recipe — which is caramel coated popcorn — in an Episode entitled “GramGrams Opening Cans of What For”. She has macular, and was still able to fill enough tins to almost fill the wall of the large room. Meanwhile, Fredo, my dad, was largely filling everyone’s plate with beef tenderloin . . . and only beef tenderloin . . . because he cooked it. Here is where I say that, in addition to trivia involving high school mascots and bodies of water, Fredo is pretty good with a smoker.
After the meal, we had the Colorful Elephant gift exchange — which some call a White Elephant exchange. You know, there is a mix of real gifts and joke gifts, usually in a 1/10 ratio. Everyone draws a number out of a literal hat (in this case, a cowboy hat). When your number is called, you go pick something from the gift-pile. You can trade, swap, cajole, or exchange gifts for other gifts or uncalled numbers.
In this case, Muff’s drew a rubber rat, much to her chagrin. Immediately she exclaimed “I do not want a rat.” Who does? In an act of supreme selflessness, and thinking a rubber rat sure could come in handy one day, Dolphyn swooped in for the rescue and “bartered” the rat from Muff in exchange for our own pick. I remember thinking, gross and who brings a rat? Then I thought, wait, R.A.T. are the initials for Hannibal’s second name fake name she “adopted” sometime after August 1966, when a fake guardianship was filed. The last name she took on in 1966? It sounds like “Ta-tacketa. Ta-tacketa. Ta-tacketa” from our Episode entitled “Devil With a Kickstand”.
The Trombone
While the exchanges were back and forthing, I was locked in. There sat, an item in play, my Grandfather’s trombone, in it’s case. His initials were carved into the handle. His initials, twice in one day. What does this mean and what are the odds?
I wanted the trombone and decided I would do just about anything to get it, even if it ended up in someone else’s hands. Where my Granddad comes from a musical clan — even copyrighted a few songs back in the 1950s, while his brother had a local Cowboy TV show then too — I can’t sing or play an instrument. I love musical people and have a deep appreciation for their gift. I didn’t get the musical gene, I got something else, from my Grandmother’s side, scrap. The kind of scrap where my ancestors, to send a message, might have walked across the street, walloped someone in the mouth, laughed, patted him on the back, and then wished him a good day. Scrap, I was willing to use.
Fortunately . . . for everyone . . . the trombone naturally landed with me. My hands trembled and I was in disbelief. Muff smiled, her eyes twinkled, and Dolphyn made a facial expression after opening the case. When we returned to #6 Accosted, we were rattled by jangling sleigh bells that Fredo, my dad, was jingling loudly and then proclaiming his tenderloin was the best thing of the entire Christmas evening. Seriously, that happened.
Through the decibels, Dolphyn appeared, “look at this, it’s the original check used to purchase the trombone, dated Oct 11, 1941”, when my Grandfather was 16, “see the memo ‘For Trombone’ and in the amount of $4.59. This was less than two months before Dec 7, 1941, right before the world changed, right before your Granddad would go off to war.”
The next day, Fredo retreated into a back bedroom — adjacent to the bathroom — to make some phone calls. He called every person he knew. Fredo was not aware, I’m guessing, that from said bathroom you can hear conversations taking place in said bedroom. On call after call, Fredo was repeating “right before my Dad was going to go to war. Can you believe that?” As if he figured that out on his own. He did not. He’s incurious, like a few other people in my family. I call them the “Incurious Bastards”. I was shocked my Dad was not crediting Dolphyn with the realization of the date “right before your Granddad was about to go off to war.” Well, OK, I was not shocked.
So, that was Christmas, 2019, which fell on the 25th that year, and the launch of my Grandad telling me “prepare for war”.
The Knife, The Rat & The Trombone
Nobody Knows the Troubles I’ve Had
As we entered into 2020, what a year, when the “troubles” hit. Around the same, my brother, Myron, his wife, The Marm, and his family escaped Houston and squatted themselves down in Amarillo.
That is when conversations with my family became hostile . . . for some reason. Hannibal would take days to answer questions or she would not answer them at all. Questions like around my maternal medical history. So it was obvious something was off. While they were using their Alexa machine, and Alexa-ing Together, I began to question myself “is there something wrong with me?” I was willing to try most anything to figure it out as long as I stayed above board. There is a lesson in that. As they say, when fighting monsters, don’t become one.
Natal Chart
I learned of a formula where you can take your date of birth, month, day, and date, add in your time and location of birth and there you have where all the planets, nodes, etc. were placed when you were born. Real hardcore Astrology stuff. I found a person — a gypsy living in Germany, true story — who was practiced in pulling natal charts, a practice she had learned from her Grandmother. I was sold. What came back was 35 pages describing basically me and with a few areas of concern and pride. It was spooky how dead on this was.
Here is a sampling:
You (i.e., Me) had a strong tie to your family that was not healthy or emotionally supported (true that)
You have strong patriotic roots (yep)
There may be conflicts in your family over legacies (finding out now, big time)
Problems or disappointments coming from the mother or family, fights with parents or siblings (as seen on Substack)
Trauma, abuse and neglect at the hands of your mother
Your mother may have used you as a crutch (and how) as she was not stable
You felt not loved or wanted by parents
You were born knowing about your mom, you were royally angry, at birth, by her deception, and you will be the boomerang (I love boomerangs!)
Above all, you are what the stars call a “reflector” — you both read and reflect energy that hits you, both positive and negative
Take the Long Way Home
As the “troubles” of 2020 continued on and the narcissist debutant ball seemed to begin, I asked “is this what my Grandad was trying to tell me?” Answer: No, it is bigger than that. “Well, is there something about agriculture that comes into to play?” Answer: No, it is bigger.”
DNA for One and All
After I helped my dad, Fredo, apply for and receive $130K in Gov’t CFAP payments, and after he thanked me by calling me a F&%$-ing liar, I genuinely thought I might not be their kid.
So, I did an Ancestry.com DNA kit and a few others to triple make sure of the results. Then, I enlisted the largest 501(c)3 of genealogists to pull together six generations of my maternal and paternal lines. At this point, my sister had me blocked on all her devices, or as Hannibal would later tell me, Hannibal had instructed my sister to block me. I really thought even more I might not be of the Fredo and Hannibal bloodline. Turns out, I am.
Are my siblings(?)? Don’t know. Neither one of them look, talk, act like me. They sure have questionable ethics — if any. However, based on my research, here is a comprehensive list of everyone I know for certain is Fredo’s biological child:
Me
[End of List]
Thanks to the 501(c)(3) group, they got me in touch with maternal relatives. One aunt in particular — my unkown Aunt from previous episodes — I have very much enjoyed getting to know. It’s interesting that despite her childhood with Hannibal, she still loves Hannibal. There isn’t an ounce of anger or bad blood there. In fact, she cries thinking about their childhood together, which I find remarkable, given some of the stories. You can go back and read Parts 1 & 2 of Devil With A Kickstand and Once Upon a Time at the Dairy Mart from Pumped Up Trikes.
Trauma Deformed Therapy
After seeing the trauma comments in my natal chart and being blocked by my family, I knew it was time to go next level. I began looking into therapists and it came down to two. The decision maker was that one had handled a high profile amount of trauma, adversity and what would later be turned into a movie. Great backstory!
From what I could see, is that throughout the entire saga, she remained a good person and a good Mom. She had ground game. And wanted to right some wrongs. A good Mom, the very thing that Hannibal was not being. This was the one.
Throughout all of the new information, absolute hellish amounts of pain and worry, there was one constant, Muff. She was the anchor we all swung around in our games of Tether Ball.
It’s been one year since she passed away. Here is what I wrote one year ago.
A PERFECT 10. An Expression of Goodwill. Amazing Grace in Human Form.
Muff passed away April 10, 2025 at 1:30am. As my cousin said, 10 days before Easter, just like my Dayton [my Grandfather] passed - 10 days before Easter. Muff was married for 39 years and a widow for 39 years. There are many symmetries with Muff and Dayton. If you have been to the Tiara of Texas, Hansford County, and spent time in Gruver population approx 1,200, elevation 3,176, you’ve likely met Guy Paul & Scottie, experienced the windblown look and heard the carillons playing from Gruver Methodist Church. Muff dedicated the carillons in honor of Dayton and as an expression of appreciation and ongoing goodwill to the cherished community of Gruver. You can see her playlist in this photo, which is a good explanation of Muff.
During the “troubles”, I would ring the GMC Pastor to check in on the carillons and he said “they are playing beautifully, we’re getting requests for louder volume and I’m hesitant because we don’t want to harm the stain-glass windows”. I would report back to Muff and she would give a “OK, good”.
The tulips, pictured in her yard, were the kick off to Easter prep. She loved celebrating Easter and Christmas. Each Easter we had an Easter Egg Hunt with 1 prized Golden Egg. My oldest cousin, of course, would find the golden egg, and another the most eggs. I would stand, distraught, not being able to run with a hat or get dirty dressed in all white. They would reassure me, “don’t worry. We’ll put all the eggs on the table and share.” We did, the kindest of chip in cousins any could ask for.
Photo Courtesy of PFFK#7
After Dayton died, Easter and Christmas were not as cheery for a long time. Then a later Christmas, my cousins brought the VHS tape of Christmas Vacation, the smiles were back. Through each holiday, we enjoyed the absolute best food. Muff prepared the most incredible meals. Her fried pies were so good that she would make them for my birthday. I rarely got the opportunity to enjoy them, however, as Fredo would pick them up and eat them before he arrived back in Amarillo.
Muff and Dayton both said “you can figure out anything by praying and asking Jesus, you must follow in his ways.” And also, “God can show you the path, but you have to walk it yourself.”
Of course, I had many questions and there was a revision “or you can ask one of us.”
Each Sunday Muff would sit on the main Preacher side of the pews, along with my Uncle’s family. We would sit on the side of the assistant Preacher. Dayton would alternate between sitting with each family. I always had so many questions and Dayton limited them during church. Finally he said “you need to listen to every word that is said from the pulpit. Observe what the other members do with the same words this week and report back to me.” Occasionally nodding his head toward someone that needed observing, as if to say “you know, like that guy over yonder”.
Well, how about this question. What is The Crystal Pistol?
The Legend of the Crystal Pistol
Dayton and I were riding along in his truck — driving to the Amarillo — when he did a quick, abrupt and unexpected turn. It slid me across the seat, and he was out the driver side so fast and approaching Uncle Beaz. Uncle Beaz was coming out of the Crystal Pistol, slowly slumping, as I heard Dayton saying to said Uncle Beaz: “It’s daylight, time for working; no good reason to be spending hard earned money, no denying, Crystal Pistol, better not, not ever, see you here again, coming out of the Crystal Pistol.” For further effect, he added, “now I mean it”.
Dayton hopped back in and we headed toward their house. Perplexed and after trying to gauge him, I asked “what is the Crystal Pistol?”
Dayton “not a good place, it’s an adult place”. Me “have you been there?” Dayton “no”. Me “has Muff?”. Dayton “no!” Me “how about Willie (a great Aunt or something)? Dayton, “no!”
Me, “what about my Great Uncle?” Dayton “no”.
Me “has Billy Bob (lots more on him later) been to the Crystal Pistol?” Dayton made a look, gave a glance, like a not sure.
This went on for a few minutes until I ran through pretty much every adult in town, at least the ones I knew.
“So”, I observed, quietly while speaking mostly to myself, “this is an adult place that no adults go to???”
As we pulled into their driveway, I was making my way out to run in ahead of Dayton. Muff was in the kitchen as I barreled in and asked Muff “what is the Crystal Pistol, do you know anyone who has been there?” Muff “Good lands, no! Can you go on back to JuJu’s room, read until I come get you.”
I don’t think Dayton had a chance to tell Muff that someone had spotted Uncle Beaz’s car in the Crystal Pistol parking lot as they were driving through Amarillo. I felt bad and learned a lesson in asking questions, when and how to interpret the answers. Hey. I was just a kid.
Dayton along with his friends, brothers and brother-in-law served in WWll. He and Muff met when he returned home. Muff and her friends were at Dayton’s sister, Estelle’s comforting her. Estelle’s husband, CP, served under General Patton and died while at war. Dayton walked into Estelle’s, saw Muff and said “that is who I am going to marry.” Muff said “I regretted Dayton seeing me for the 1st time . . . when I only had half of my lipstick on.”
Dayton went on to only ride horseback with CP’s saddle. A tribute to CP & Estelle and the day he met Muff. After Dayton died, Muff began working in travel, Wheetheart Travel. Have no idea how many honeymoons and trips she booked. The travel catalogs would come in and they were fascinating — I loved the bathtubs in the shape of champagne glasses in the Poconos — Statue of Liberty, etc. I asked Muff “is it hard to travel?” and she replied “Good Heavens no. You just get in a car or book a flight.” This is about the time she would explain independence, volunteering, couples, friendship, teamwork, family, missing Dayton, being thankful for her siblings, Gruver, Spearman and Dallas which was Dayton and Muff’s last trip together.
Both often and appropriately would say “God Bless the USA”,
“God Bless Texas”, “God Bless You.”
“God please bless our area with rain.”
They both made sure we knew The Texas State Song and Pledge of Allegiance and I tear up every time I hear the National Anthem and the Pledge. Muff assured me this was just fine, even if I am on the hill, in High School, at the Stadium, on Friday Night, as a Cheerleader.
Along with their wonderful friends, they sponsored, hosted or co-hosted, co-chaired many church, community and school events, baby and bridal showers. They are a great team. The number of meals prepared, bushels of wheat, head of cattle, love & support they gave and received, like most of Hansford families. I have truly have no idea, but can sure imagine. They had their best list, each person in the county was the best for this or that. Wonderful place, Hansford County. So of course, I had questions. “How did this dynamic duo come to be after meeting at Estelle’s house?”
The Legend of the Jackson Boys & Wiley Sheets
Here is a story Muff told me only recently — before her kids put her in a home.
Dayton was picking Muff up for their first date. Others were also preparing for their 1st date. While Dayton was en route to pick up Muff, her brothers “the Jackson boys” and Wiley Sheets set a boobie trap at the entrance gate of Claude & Bessie’s. The trap consisted of a bucket of water and a rope, designed to get triggered when the gate opened. Dayton arrived, observed the trap, and “with his long legs, just stepped over the fence, not falling for their set up of opening the fence and having water dumped on his head. Dayton is observant. The Jacksons laughed, Dayton admired their effort and they all enjoyed one another from there on.
Muff was my 1st best friend and Dayton my 2nd. Both Muff and Dayton have 8 siblings, are from Hansford agriculture producing families and survived the Dust Bowl. Dayton and his brothers had a most beautiful gift with writing, playing and singing music. You’ll notice the *bonus on Muff’s playlist which is where I would do a plug in a tune just to get Muff’s reaction. Sir Mix Alot was a “well, no on that one”. Anything by Elvis was a full listen. Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, yes. Michael Jackson, Whitney or Tina, was a “maybe” but only to humor me. Dayton taught me to appreciate musically gifted people. Muff taught me to prepare and study, always be learning. Thanks to Muff’s tutelage drills in Art Memory and Music Memory, I was on the competition team. Later throughout many travels I learned music, art and cheese are a universal language.
Gardening
In 2020, I basically lost what I thought was a mom and gained a Hannibal . . . and some silence. For some reason, Hannibal thought the “silent treatment” was going to work. It didn’t. It was actually a relief. A vacation. A respite.
So Muff became even more of a constant to me. Having lived in NYC and then traveled for years, I didn’t know a lot about gardening, so I called Muff. She started with “go outside walk along and tell me what you see. Ok, it’s a radial plan.” Me “what’s radial? Here are Lily of the Valley. My mom said to rip them out.” Muff “oh dear, let’s not rip anything just yet. Radial, like the sun and moon. Have you got a hummingbird feeder up?” Thanks to her, there are now so many birds & blooms I live amongst. Here is the 1st peony haul from her tutelage. Oh yeah, and the Lily of the Valley are over 100 years old, with the big broad leaves. We have lots of Peonies too. Like these.
Photo Courtesy of PFFK#7
The day Muff passed away, I was gazing out of our landing window thinking about her, I always do. The plumpest robins we’ve ever had, were jumping all around. Hummingbirds and robins are Muff’s favorite. Robins symbolize passion, keeping joy and happiness in your life. Then a car, identical to Muff’s last car and going at the same pace Muff would drive passed by. Her voice, with a chipper uptick, came to me “I’m good, on the move. We’re good. I can see everything and we’re doing everything we want”.
Throughout darkness of Hannibal, something stronger remains. In life and death, I am permanently tethered to something stronger, my Grandparents.