A pride of kin by Unknown

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On the other hand, my mother, who is much more of a stickler, both for facts and for decorum, assured me that all shirts were made longer in the nineteenth century and that her grandfather's shirttails were certainly long enough to satisfy manly modesty, whatever he wore beneath them.  The pants were carefully folded over his arm; his famous shirttail was insouciantly waving in the East Texas breeze.  It was his formal suit that was in the trunk, and the one in which pap had been photographed, probably at Ma's insistence.

It was his formal suit that was in the trunk, and the one in which pap had been photographed, probably at Ma's insistence.  Waist­length, it depicted the neatly and elegantly dressed family patriarch in his natural state of dishabille; the suit that fit him so perfectly around his shoulders actually gaped open at his waist, exposing not only a generous expanse of flesh, but his belly button as well.  His nonchalence about matters popularly considered weighty was notorious. " Pap had an earthy sense of humor, and this gusty tale tickled his funny bone.

It was possibly after there got to be so many of them.  When you've seen one Hooks, you may not have seen them all, but chances are that sooner or later you will.  The tales, however, go on.  He was my great­grandfather.  Whatever its urgency, that caravan was the harbinger of my East Texas heritage.  It was necessary for them to keep a constant lookout for Indians, as well as for white renegades who were apt to rob their more prosperous fellow travelers.  At the time, my great­grandparents had four children: Lum, who was nine; Day, who was six; Lucina, called "Cine," the only girl, who was four; and Buck, the baby, who was just a year old.

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