Oh Henry, you silly man, what were you thinking?
Here I am, looking for a picture for todays post and I find this one: An Oh Henry candy bar. I used to eat these whenever I saw them, because they were never widely distributed up here in the central mid-westerly northern states. So when I saw them, I had to buy them.
And now Im sad. Because I haven't seen one for ages. (to be honest, I haven't looked for ages either, but sh'up!) Oh Henry was like a Zagnut. Hard to find, but a real treasure when you did. Great. Now I want candy.
But, as a wise man once told me, "Want in one hand and poop in the other, and see which hand fills up first."
So, no candy for me. None for Henry, either.
I'm not talking about the Henry from the candy bar, but about another Henry. Henry Ziegland, to be exact.
Let me tell you a story. An odd story.
There once was a man named Henry Ziegland. He was an example of the typical man who lived in 1893. That is, he had a job and a girlfriend. Too bad he only wanted one of them.
So, in typical guy fashion, he dumped his girlfriend. And he did it in your typical college frat-boy douche-y way. (in other words, he wasn't too nice about it). One thing should be noted about dating in 1893, nice girls didn't just date any one. Long term dating usually led to a wedding. And Henry had been dating his girlfriend for quite a while.
Well, needless to say, the woman thought she had found her husband, and was heartbroken when Henry called it off. And, as was typical for the young ladies back in 1893, she had a brother. A brother who took issue with Henry breaking it off with his sister.
So, to avenge his sister honor, the brother went looking for Henry with a pistol. And he found him in the yard at his house. While the conversation between the two hasn't been preserved, I'd imagine there was some name calling and pleading.
The brother shot Henry in the head. Satisfied his sisters honor was saved, he then did the honorable thing himself; He killed himself with the same gun.
Except, he really wasn't that great a shot. His first bullet only grazed the side of Henry's head, and lodged in the tree behind him.
Henry, being the guy he was, gloated about cheating death. In fact, he gloated every chance he got.
Well, time did what it always does, and it passed. And it passed. And it passed.
And Henry got older. And his property got older. And the trees on his property got older.
In 1913, one of Henrys trees was looking like it needed to come down. It was a good sized tree, after all. And it was starting to look like the next big storm would bring it down. And Henry, being the proactive man he was, decided to remove the tree.
He would have done it years ago, but it just so happened that the tree in question was the very same tree that held the bullet that failed to kill Henry 20 years earlier. So, the tree had sentimental value for him.
But, it had to come down.
Henry however, wasn't young and spry any longer. And it was a big tree. And, chainsaws weren't actually in every garage back then. And the local tree service wasn't a simple phone call away.
But, it was 1913, and it was a simpler time. And if you had a tree you needed to take down, you did what everyone else did; You went to the local general store and bought some dynamite.
Henry bought his dynamite and following the instructions he was told, he placed the explosives so they would knock the tree down without hitting the house.
Henry lit the fuse and ran like hell. He went back quite a ways, to what he was told was a safe distance, and waited. And waited. And.....KA-BLOOIE!
The dynamite went off and the tree fell exactly where he wanted it too. And, as it turned out, he had retreated to a safe distance. None of the exploded wood splinters reached as far back as Henry was standing.
There was something besides wood in that tree. There was a bullet that had been there for twenty years. The force of the explosion liberated the bullet from it's woody prison.
Liberated it right into Henrys head, killing him instantly.
Oh Henry.......I still want a candy bar.