A Tall Tale

It was the stuff tall tales are made of, and yours truly, who comes from a long line of ‘truth-embellishers’, felt the call.  I’d googled my grandmother’s birth place and Voila!

My little half-Indian grandmother and Butch Cassidy were born in the same little Utah town.  In the same era.   There were only about 500 people in Circle Valley, surely their paths crossed.  Yeah, that ‘s right  they were buds.  Did a little target practice together.  He taught her to smoke, always wondered how a  Jack-Mormon picked up that nasty habit.   And she could handle a horse,  her and ol’ Butch probably rode around the valley looking for trouble.   And he looked just like Paul Newman.  Oh, wow.

Well, close.

And Grandma’s father, the elusive Indian brave that even the LDS  genealogy  charts left blank.  Well he probably looked liked this guy. He probably was this guy.

His name is Michael Ansara and his birthplace is Syria, not Circle Valley, but this is my story and I’m sticking to it.      Great-Grandpa.

Butch’s website showed the family homestead, in pretty bad shape.

And Grandma lived about a nine iron down the road.

My grandma could ride a bike,

and did so frequently,  which amazed me as a kid.  I thought she lived before the wheel was invented.


Now I understand, Butch rode a two-wheeler  too.  They probably  pedaled  as a duo. Yeah, that’s right.

Would  you like to see some old photos from the family album?  Feast your eyes:


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~ by dottiedoright on March 5, 2010.

One Response to “A Tall Tale”

  1. Hilarious. Fits the category of tall tale. Just enough truth to make you believe – maybe. I watched my Grandma hop onto a bicycle when she was “elderly”. For real.

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