Now Hear This: The value of a talking frog
He’s a friend of the family. Right away when somebody says that, you get the impression that person is held in high esteem by every member of your clan. And, so it is with Chester Ben Allen Allgood.
When you’ve got something important to discuss, you call him by his first and middle two names. Like the other day when I said, “I’ve got a friend who is having a Harley crisis, and he needs your help.”
Right here let me tell you why I confide in Chester BenAllen in such matters. Chester, you might say (and many do), is a modern-day, old-world philosopher, and consultant in human affairs.
I stopped by to see Chester the other day. I had a lot on my mind, and I needed his advice. It was slow around the store. Just me and Chester, and Dog. Dog is his dog’s name. I think he got the name from a John Wayne movie. Chester was in an unusually good mood, and before I could bring up this problem I needed to discuss, he launched into one of his stories.
“Feller come in here the other day telling the darndest story I ever heard. Gotta tell you,” Chester said, laughing. “It was late afternoon, and the man was sittin’ in his foldingchair on the bank fishing with a cane pole when he thought he heard his name called.
“Well, he said, I snuck a peek around. Couldn’t see nobody, and thought it must be the wind playing tricks with my ears. Well, a few minutes later he felt something bump his foot. The feller looked down and there was a big ‘ole bull frog. And, the frog said if you’ll kiss me on my lips I’ll turn into a beautiful woman.”
Chester and I both laughed at the thought, and I couldn’t wait for the end of the story.
“The feller figured it was high time he get the heck out of Dodge, after that little scene with the frog, so he picked up his cane pole, reached down and got his tackle box, then picked up the frog and put him in his pocket, and headed for his pickup. All the while that frog was jumping and bumping the side of his pocket, and again shouted, ‘Mister I’m not fooling, please kiss me on my lips. I won’t disappoint you. I will turn into a beautiful woman.’ The man stopped dead in his tracks, opened his pocket, and said to that frog, ‘Are you kiddin, at my age I’d rather have a TALKIN FROG.'”
Chester howled… and after we both had a good laugh, it was time to get serious.
“So, my young friend, did you say something bout somebody having a Harley crisis?”
I explained I had a very good friend who for the past few months had been thinking seriously about buying a Harley-Davidson. I told Chester my friend had several friends that rode Harley’s, and they were trying to talk him into joining them.
“You about 50-something,” Chester asked. “I mean, your friend,” his eyes twinkling, “Probably in his 50s?” I nodded.
“You need to listen to me, and listen good to what I got to tell you.”
“This is not about me ?”
Chester paid no attention to my plea.
“I got a story for yo, friend,” which was to imply he was not buying the “my friend” story.
“Ain’t never had no motor-sickle, but I know a banker who does. I call him”Million-Dollar Bill. Know all bout that banker I do. He’s 50-something, just like you. Anyway, it was that motor-sickle that got him in trouble. Million-Dollar Bill got to ridden with the wrong crowd. Seems he fell in with some free spirits. Lost his wife and family. Then the bank told him to hit the road. Last time I saw Bill, he looked like one of them “Easy Rider” characters. He told me he was headin’ West. Sure hope he finds what he’s looking for. Truth is, he left what he’s looking for.”
I relayed Chester’s story to my friend, who immediately went home and told his wife she never had to worry about him hanging out with any free spirits. She didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. Then he said, “Honey, you ever wanted to own a convertible?”
(Hope Hines is a television sports reporter and a Nashville personality.)