On this Veteran's Day, I'm choosing to honor a man I credit for my ability to tell a story: my maternal grandfather. His name was Rufus Simms, and he could tell tall tales like you wouldn't believe. Born in Kentucky in 1915 (or 1916, depending on who you asked), he was one of nearly a dozen children. He was a man of many stories, particularly about his time in the Navy. He served in World War II, married the love of his life in January of 1944, and had two children. Getting him to tell tales of his time in the Navy wasn't hard; not laughing long enough to write them down was. He had a flare for embellishment and a whimsical style of storytelling that belied his analytical nature. The man loved chess, loved strategy, and after he retired he played the stock market like a fiddle to make enough that not only could he and his wife travel the world as they wished, but they had the ability to put three grandchildren through college without much difficulty.
I will always be grateful to him for that.
He passed away in 2008, but his tall tales live on in the minds of those he told them to. Today, I will tell what I can recall of the "White Navy Bean" story. During the war, my grandfather served shipboard in a clerical position, though I don't remember exactly which one he held when this took place. He was a clerical assistant tasked with record-keeping, particularly with regards to payroll. While he didn't have access to the dispersing office himself, he would be required to record who was paid, how much they were paid, and when. During one part of this particular posting, his CO was particularly odious. He was a man no one could tolerate on the best of days, but for some reason he'd become more obnoxious than usual. So my grandfather concocted a plan to get a little bit of quiet revenge on the man for making everyone else around him miserable.
One day, the CO unlocked his office and opened the door, only to step on a single dried white navy bean. Dried beans make a particular crunch when you step on them, made louder by being crushed against metal floor plates, so it was impossible for anyone to miss the sound. His CO became incensed, and immediately went through his entire office, convinced someone had broken in. After hours of searching, nothing turned up missing and no one had any clue how the bean had gotten into a locked and sealed office.
The next day, it happened again. This went on for weeks, with anywhere from one to three beans appearing on the floor in the office every single day. It came to a point where the CO was searching everyone for beans and accusing all and sundry of breaking into his office. Finally, the CO was transferred because he'd pushed too hard and pissed off the Captain. At which point my grandfather finally came clean.
He'd been the one responsible for the beans.
But he had never broken in to the office.
When asked how he managed to get the beans in the room without opening the door, he revealed that the lock for the door actually went through the entire way, so that it could be locked from the inside as well. Because of this tiny flaw, a single navy bean could be pushed through the hole into the room without disturbing the lock. He simply would wait until his CO was off duty, sneak down to the galley, swipe a few uncooked beans, and push them through the hole in the door.
Even now, when I think of the story, I laugh. I imagine him slowly pushing a tiny white bean through a hole in the door, like some strange camo-wearing ninja, and can't help but giggle. The "White Navy Bean" story was certainly not his only tale of messing with commanding officers he found obnoxious, but it's one I remember well.
So well that I can't even look at white beans without laughing, which gets me many odd looks in the grocery store.