[Leica] But Then, Some of Us Are Just Born Sui Generis

[buzz.hausner at verizon.net (Buzz Hausner)]

You're right, Marc, and I seek to retract my observation.  You are not
the foundation of a stereotype.  You are, however, the ultimate
idiosyncrat!

        Buzz

-----Original Message-----
From: lug-bounces+buzz.hausner=verizon.net@leica-users.org
[mailto:lug-bounces+buzz.hausner=verizon.net@leica-users.org] On Behalf
Of Marc James Small
Sent: Friday, December 10, 2004 7:29 PM
To: Leica Users Group
Subject: RE: [Leica] But Then,Nobody From Anywhere Else Could
BelieveinStereotypes...

At 06:40 PM 12/10/04 -0500, Buzz Hausner wrote:
>Some of us...well, some of you....Marc are the rock upon which the
>stereotypes are built!  ;<)

Allow me to go further:

I do have a broken-down car in my back yard.  (It is a 1967 Sunbeam
Alpine,
a British sports car, which needs to be moved into the garage and which
will be so moved once we sell off more of the furniture stored there.)

My guns are all at the office, in a closet.  I only own an Argentine
Mauser, rechambered to .30-'06 and fitted with a really great Ukrainian
scope.  My wife, however, came equipped with everything from a pellet
gun
to a 12-gauge shotgun.  She swears that she can outshoot me (I always
scored as a marksman or sharpshooter during my military service on both
pistols and rifles) and I've never challenged her on this, as she is a
VERY
serious person and might blow me away if I outdid her on the range.
(And,
no, neither of us hunt though we both enjoy a bit of venison, elk, or
moose
from time to time from her son-in-law or from my own son.))

I do know my age, I am not married to anyone to whom I am related, even
most distantly.  But, then, I do like scrapple and eat opossum and
squirrel
and raccoon on occasion.  I have had groundhog but it is far too fatty
for
my taste.  I also eat escargot and oysters on the shell and eel, on
those
rare occasions when I can get it.

And I do speak Mountain.  I was, around five or six years back, in the
General District Court for Franklin County, Virginia, when a witness
irritated the Judge, who could not understand his talk.  I did
understand
it:  his dialect was close to that of many of my relatives.  I stood up
and
offered to interpret.  To my knowledge, I am the only certified
"Hillbilly"
translator in the legal history of the US.

I am certainly not the Poster Boy for the American Stereotype, though:
Jim
Brick or Eric Welch fit that role far more succinctly than I could ever
do.
  Consider:

a)      I have been awarded, from Yale University, no less, a Master's
Degree in
Classical Languages.
b)      I served as an officer in the US Army, the Virginia National
Guard, and
the Army Reserve and retired as a Lieutenant Colonel.
c)      I have two books in print, both of them really well written and,
in one
case, full of multilingual citations.
e)      I was graduated not only from elementary school, but also from
Junior
High, High School, College, Graduate School, and Law School.

None of this allows me to move too far from my Mountain roots, of
course:
my father's family is best exemplified by the Ward Bond character in
that
epic 1947 Cecil B DeMille vehicle, THE UNCONQUERED, while my mother's
family included ancestors who founded the first European settlements in
what is now West Virginia (I know, I know:  we have been apologizing
ever
since, but no one has yet accepted this!)  (One of my
fourth-great-grandfathers was "chased arouund a tree three times and
then
killed and scalped" by Native American Agrarian Reformers;  his son, who
witnessed this, served as a Scout during the Revolutionary War and went
on
to volunteer for duty in the War of 1812, where the military told off
this
dottard as a sentinel.)

Many in my DNA strain have one foot shorter than the other, a genetic
trait
inspired by their need to walk around the hillocks of the Appalachians.

Me?  A stereotype?  Goodness, no!  I am just one of those who has a
great
pride in his family, though:  most are good-hearted folks living their
lives as they wish and content with the lot that God has given them,
while
a few of our minor products are idiots and a few are certified morons,
about the norm for any extended clan.

Sadly, the death of my mother and the ill-health of my aunt means that
the
family is exploding apart.  Fortunately, one cousin of  mine is most
involved in holding the family in a common bond.  No one is doing the
same
on my father's side and I am close to being out of touch with all of the
descendants of Garfield Small, though I, as the senior grandchild,
possess
his papers.  (For that matter, I am the only holder of a signature of
William Small, that laggard who first brought this name to these shores
in
1828, almost the last of my folks to move over to this land where the
streets are paved with, well, paving blocks.)

Marc