Jack and the Glory

My Pop is the storyteller of my family. He turns banal events in our lives into epic adventures. He creates so-called "facts" off the top of his head that sound so convincing anyone would believe him. (At least, until Google came along!). My Dad would say lovingly that he's the great bullshitter of the family.

"Bull's wool," we were taught to say to him as kids, when he got carried away with his fantasies.

Do bulls even have wool? I suppose not, but it rhymes, and you can start saying "bull's…" around the kids and finish it off with "wool" instead of the more traditional ending.

So when did this penchant for make-believe turn into a series of bedtime stories? I can't remember the exact date, but I do clearly remember the first Jack and the Glory story.

One morning when my sister and I had just woken up at our grandparents’ house and climbed into their bed, Pop unwittingly started a tradition that would last for years.

"Shall I tell you a story of Jack and the Glory?" He asked us.

"Yes! Yes!" we cried. We loved stories.

"Shall I begin it?" Pop asked.

"Yes!" we replied.

"That's all that's in it!" He finished his little joke.

Unable to appreciate the joke at the age of two and four, my sister and I were devastated. We had been expecting a story! What was this nonsense?!

"What do you mean that's all that's in it? What's the story?" I asked desperately.

"No, no, there's no story, it's just a joke," said Pop, "don't you get it?"

"Aaaaahhhhh! Story! Story! I want a story!" I cried.

Pop began to realise his mistake.

"Well, I don't actually know the story about Jack and the Glory," he said cautiously, "but I could make one up if you like."

"Yeah, yeah, do that!" I was placated.

We snuggled into a comfy spot on the bed and looked up at Pop expectantly. He had our full attention.

"Shall I tell you a story of Jack and the Glory?" Pop began again.

"Yes please, you promised," I said.

"Once there was a boy named Jack, who had a horse named Glory," he began. And it all went from there.

We were instantly transported to colonial Australia, where a chivalrous young man named Jack and his horse Glory set about solving mysteries and righting minor wrongs. There were lawless bush rangers, poisonous snakes and spiders, riding accidents and several instances of getting lost in the bush. Jack had two sidekicks who would go on these adventures with him. Mysteriously, they had the same names as me and my sister.

What my Pop didn't realise that morning was that he was starting a tradition that would last for years, and giving us an experience that would stay with us for the rest of our lives. It all started with an innocent pun.

Maybe he thought he'd tell us just the one story, that we'd forget about it before long. But from that day on, every time we were asked at bedtime, "What story would you like to hear tonight?" the answer was an inevitable and enthusiastic "Jack and the Glory Story!"

Jack and his friends would always be getting into some sort of trouble on their self-assigned missions, and would spend the rest of the story trying to get out of whatever situation they had put themselves in. There was always a happy ending, and some sort of moral to the story.

In creating these characters, Pop included us in a way no other children's story could. These heroines that shared our names were grown-up versions of us that could solve any problem they came across.

By the time we moved away from my grandparents when I was five, Jack and the Glory stories were such a deeply ingrained part of our bedtime routine that we got Pop to record several stories on cassette tape. We played these over and over at bedtime and on long road trips. I didn't think twice about it at the time, but Pop probably felt pretty strange recording these made-up stories without an audience. At the same time, I’m sure it was a relief for him to have us play the recordings rather than coming up with something new every time!

Years later, I have discovered that the saying "I'll tell you a story of Jack and his glory, as long as you don't speak in the middle of it," and other similar wordings, is an old saying that my Pop probably picked up sometime during his childhood in Australia. This saying seems to be used to try to keep kids quiet, but I can only imagine how often it backfires when no story is forthcoming. How many other parents and grandparents have created their own versions of Jack and the Glory stories, I wonder.