Isn't that how the saying goes? Here is my chicken story. After my brother died I went down to CA for a week and stayed at his house with my sister and prepared for his big memorial hippie party. Now, you have to have known Rick or been to his house to understand fully what I mean when I say that he was the biggest packrat ever. He was an artist and therefore saw beauty in unlikely things, all of which found their way into his house and cluttered every space in every room. I noted this while I was down there as I looked on a shelf which had a beautifully intricate carved stone vase, right next to the ugliest ceramic chickens I have ever seen. Rick appreciated the beauty in everything and if something didn't have a story to go along with it, he made one up, which just made everything appealing. I'm sure the ugly-ass chickens had a story, but I never heard it. Anyway, I made this comment to my sister using the vase and chickens as examples.
Flash forward to last weekend in San Jose at my sister's house. She says that she has put together a box of mementos from my brothers house for me and the boys, and that I had to take everything that was in the box. This should have been my first clue that there was something in the box that perhaps I would not want. I'm sure you can all guess what was in the box.
You can click on the picture to make them even uglier. Apparently, grief is not enough for our family to lose our sense of humor.
So, I am now the proud owner of the ugliest ceramic chickens in history. They roost in a high place of honor in my living room, on my built-in entertainment center/fireplace. I mean, this is where the Baby Jesus sits in his manger at Christmastime! And now, they have a story, maybe not the one my brother told, but one that's special because it connects me to him.