Everybody Get's a Parting Gift by Earl Corp ~Family Story ~ Fiction writing prompt entry |
Growing up in my family was weird. I’m not talking about anything like incest or abuse. My Mom was a loving woman who made sure we had three hots and a cot. Our home was warm and snug and there was plenty of love. But then there was the case of my dad. Dad was an English teacher who grew up in Washington State. He’d also served in the Army with his proudest accomplishment making it through jump school and serving in the 101st Airborne in the early 1960s. How we got to PA was dad hitchhiked here from Kentucky, met mom, and stayed. But that all changed November 24, 1971, A man using the alias D.B. Cooper hijacked a Boeing 727 from Portland to Seattle. He received $200,000 and four parachutes. Somewhere over Washington he and the money exited the aircraft. This is when things got weird at home. As far as we knew at the time, Dad was at deer hunting camp in Tionesta, and wouldn’t be home until the following Tuesday. Dad got home Monday night but he hadn’t had any luck, no deer. That was the first time in a long time he hadn’t bagged a buck. We went back to school on Tuesday and didn’t think anything about it. At least not until the FBI showed up at school to talk to dad. They were interviewing any Washington State natives who had graduated jump school in the 1960s as D.B. Cooper suspects. Everyone who knew my dad laughed at this. He wasn’t some gung-ho snake eater; he’d been a clerk in the Army. Now he was a teacher who produced student plays. It was hilarious that they thought he was this larger than life outlaw. After the FBI left satisfied it wasn’t Dad it became the running joke in town that Dad was secretly D.B. Cooper. My mother thought it was great and started calling him D.B. My brother and I took a lot of ribbing and questions about it. We’d tell everybody, “Hey, we’ve never seen a dime of that money.” And we hadn’t. Fast forward to last Monday. We just buried Dad today, that was hard. Then things got weird again. At the wake Mom handed me an envelope and said, “Your father wanted you to have this.” I tore open the envelope and read the note in my Dad’s handwriting: Dear Earl, Go to the base of the red maple in the back yard and dig on the west side and all will be revealed. Love, Dad What the Hell? I grabbed a shovel and went to the back and found the maple and started to dig. At about the three-foot mark I hit something. Brushing the dirt away I found a metal box. I lifted it out and there was some heft to it. I opened the box and found stacks of greenbacks with another envelope on top. I grasped the envelope and tore it open then read the note inside: Dear Earl, The Statute of limitations has run out, now you’ve seen it quit saying you haven’t. Enjoy! D.B. Cooper (Dad)
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