How Legends Work: the Loss of Mystery and Lore

There were so many doves out there that the power lines were sagging My Uncle Kenneth could spin a yarn. My grandpa passed away when I was 11 . . . his brother, my Uncle Leland, filled that surrogate role for me . . . His farm was an enchanted place full of cows and turkeys and deer and buffalo (seriously) . . . And, when we visited, it was also full of Uncle Kenneth, another great-uncle (in both the familial sense AND the storyteller sense) of mine. As a young boy in the Deep South, those family get togethers were marked by Jeep rides, and huge Sunday dinners, and…