Now, my story begins in 19-dickety-2. We had to say ‘dickety,’ ‘cause the Kaiser had stolen our word ‘twenty.’ I chased that rascal to get it back but gave up after dickety-six miles. We can’t bust heads like we used to—but we have our ways. One trick is to tell them stories that don’t go anywhere like the time I caught the ferry over to Shelbyville. I needed a new heel for my shoe, so I decided to go to Morganville which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So, I tied an onion to my belt which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel. And in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on ‘em.