fun story told truly

once upon a time when I was small

Swayne Britt told us fantastical stories of ridiculous things, and fantastical stories of real things. He made us Cowboy Beans for lunch.

Once, when my parents were having a party and Swayne was there, a little English boy asked him who he was. Swayne said, ‘I’m a cowboy, son.’ The little boy looked at Swayne’s shirt and trousers, shook his head and replied, ‘I don’t believe you, Mister.’

You know what Swayne did? He put down his beer, got into his car and drove back to his house on the other side of that dusty city. He came back about an hour later all dressed up in his chaps and stetson and neckerchief. He winked and smiled at that little boy and said ‘Now do you believe me, son?’ That little boy was completely lost in the magic. He was in AWE. I bet he remembers that to this day.

And that’s the magic. Some people just have it.

Yeah, me and Laura, we loved Swayne Britt. We loved him a lot.


  1. I know my drumming on political betrayal and market pathology is a nuts use of blogging, but we’re in an era I want to understand.

    I know the web is akin to finding needles/haystacks etc. and we can be wasted in it.

    Your effort to pause and capture those never-again but eternal twists of a shadow or glee of a child or humility of wonder are greater contributions. As I follow now 1000s of articles and posts on raw statistics and toothless gumming, there are no poets, so thus we are always abandoned.

    Narrative and poetry leads us.

  2. Actually I like coming here to read. You’re not always tossing mainstream at our faces. The nuggets you share have greater impact than you think…

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