Gaps in History : My Muddy Name

To fill you in on the backbeat; during high-school I recieved the nickname Mudboy due to my immaculate cleanliness.

Yeah right, the real story... My group of friends and I would congregate at least three times a week at my place to play poker (...addicted much?). Well, one day I was helping my dad in the front pasture, feeding cows, mending fence or something. With this my series of unfortunate events began.

First, it started to rain. For most, this means time to head in and clean up; not my dad, and therefore not me. We toiled and toiled, he worked me raw, water in the boots and mud in the hair (dont ask, I have no idea how that happened). Then, to add to my agony, a line of cars started up our driveway, apparently an emergency poker game had been called to ease the oncoming withdrawals. Watching them in their dry comfy cars, lit a fire under my ass. Five minutes later I was sitting at the poker table changing chips. Then it happened.

"Geez Josh, your like a mudboy or something."

Immediately "Josh" was a distant memory, hello Mudboy. I hated it, but after a few years it started to grow on me. Now it is a part of me, and fitting; not in the dirt and grime way, but in the way I have come to see the interconnectedness of the world and its events.

jp