By Dave Ellis
There are many facets to genealogy. This month I would like to focus on family stories, and by family stories I mean embarrassing moments.

The best way to learn about your family’s embarrassing moments is to talk to your funniest relative, and by funniest I mean kookiest. Every family has them, every family loves them. The kooks are the movers, the shakers, the embarrassers. I am one of them…and here is my story (cue music).

My family was an incredible influence on me growing up.
Almost as much as TV. I loved to watch the original Muppet Show along with Mork & Mindy. I truly believed that these characters behaved normally – so I modeled myself after them. I really, really did. Ask my second grade teacher who forbade me from saying “shazbot” in class (true story).

So I pretty much got beat up every day until Mork & Mindy was cancelled. You would think that I would have modeled myself after cool guys like Bo and Luke Duke, but we weren’t allowed to watch Dukes of Hazzard. My father was a police officer, and they just didn’t respect the law (true story).

I soon realized that laughter, even at my expense, brought a
strange kind of respect. If falling out of a tree or rolling down a hill would get laughs, I would (and did) do it. I believe this syndrome is called ThreeStoogeism. Except I didn’t have the cool sound effects to go with my pain.

My parents encouraged me too. For instance, as a teenager, my mother helped me find a job. Interning at a local newspaper? No. Working at a bank? No. My mother realized I had talents way beyond those occupations. She helped me
get a job as the official store mascot of Jay Bird’s Wing World, a local fast food restaurant. I wore a chicken suit and danced by the road in front of the store. Funny, I don’t remember dating much that year.

Now, most people say, “Steve, being a chicken mascot is a respectable job. Look at the San Diego chicken.” To which I reply, “First, my name is Dave, not Steve. Second, yes the San Diego chicken is respectable, but he doesn’t have teenagers winging quarters at him while they drive by at 40 miles per hour.”

The only benefit to being the mascot was the free chicken dinners. I had to eat in the back room of the restaurant though, so any impressionable children wouldn’t see the nice chicken perform acts of poultry cannibalism.

I only worked there for a few months that summer, but the memories remain with me. One of my prized photos is of my sweet mother kissing a big chicken. I also have a photo where she kissed me while I was in my chicken costume.

From that moment on, I knew that I was destined to be the
kooky family member.

I then started on a rigorous schedule of being kooky. I knew that if I slipped up at all, I would be labeled “normal” and people would ignore me. To keep my skills sharp I annoyed the tar out of my sister. She gave me the appropriate feedback by telling me that I was annoying, and actually avoided me in public places. Thank you sis, that really meant a lot to me.

I’ve continued being kooky this whole time entirely for the benefit of family history. I want my children’s children to pass on stories of “Kooky Grandpa Dave” and his whoopee cushion. This will be my legacy.

So carry on all of you weirdo uncles and aunts, hold your heads high when you play “got your nose” with your young relatives. Just remember to duck for the flying quarters.