fun fact about me: When I was 6 years old I sent so much hate mail to the president (the second Bush) that the mail carrier had to tell my mom I needed to stop before we got FBI’d
A male pufferfish tries to impress potential mates with his masterpiece. āØ
There was one of those hyperspecific polls that had an option like āyour grandfather told you war stories that he never told anyone elseā and now I feel like I have to tell the story about how a spider saved my grandpaās life in WWII and how my family doesnāt kill spiders because we owe our existence to that One Single Spider
So to set the scene, itās the height of WWII in France and my grandpaāa 6'3" 20 year old upper Michigan farm boyāhas been separated from his company after their temporary camp was shelled. My grandpa (who, I have to add, was nicknamed āthe Suicide Kidā at this point because he worked in demolitions and bomb interception and kept taking the jobs no one wanted with the expectation that he was never going home anyway) is scared out of his wits, wandering around the French countryside alone. He has to move at night and sleep in barns and sheds during the day to hide from people who most definitely want him dead.
On one of these days, he finds a farmhouse of a very jittery couple who agree to let him sleep in the barn, with the conditions that he sleeps in the barn loft and if heās found, they disavow all knowledge that he was there. He agrees, because heās exhausted and will sleep in a hay pile if he has to. My grandpa manages to fit all six foot three inches of himself into a feed trough stored upstairs and tries to get some sleep.
However, right when heās half-snoozing, he hears motors outside and sure enough, here are some very angry officers of mixed Nazi and Vichy make confronting the couple saying someone up the road spotted an American soldier walking this way. They wouldnāt know anything about that, would they? No, of course not.
All the while, my grandpaānow trying to figure out how to either escape the barn unseen or how to fight off six? seven? eight? people at onceāfreezes up and waits for the inevitable. While he does, a HUGE spider crawls next to his head and onto the loft railing. For one second, he thinks about swatting it away, but that would risk him being seen and killed.
So, instead, he lays there and waits to either fight to the death or get executed in a feed trough. And while he lays there, the spider starts making a huge web on the railing. My grandpaās transfixed by this thing. He watches her go around and around, building a solid web before plopping herself off to one side and waiting for breakfast. At the same time, the officers finally go into the barn.
My grandpa can hear them searching around, turning over crates and checking animal pens. Then, he hears one say to check the loft.
And then another say, āDonāt bother. Look at the spiderwebs up there. No oneās been there in a while.ā
And they leave.
Because my grandpa didnāt swat the spider away and let her build her web, the officers thought no one was there and left him alone. They drive off and my grandpa immediately thanks the farmer couple and hauls ass out of there as soon as he can.
After this, my grandpa refused to kill any spider, and his kids did the same. Because if it wasnāt for her, he wouldnāt have lived and would never have had kids or grandkids. So we owe her one.
Thereās the man himself. Go grandpa!!







