And I didn't have to use my credit card.

My dad's family has the same gag going with a large ceramic peacock. (It's hideous.) It started 15 years ago or so after my grandmother's funeral. My dad and his three siblings drew lots for furniture and heirlooms (because no one could agree on who got what). My dad drew the peacock. When he and my mom were leaving Indiana to go back to Texas, my dad stuck the peacock in his brother's car.

It's been foisted on one of the four of them ever since, but no one would ever admit having it.

Once, while driving from Texas to the Dakotas, my parents actually made a detour to Indiana, snuck in my Aunt and Uncle's barn, and left the peacock in their boat, knowing that it wouldn't be found for months.

My dad's brother, the baby of the family, died of cancer two years ago. I think the peacock game died with him.

I can't tell you how many times I've wondered what a fifty-year-old hot dog looks like. Now I know ... getoff you are a veritable fount of info today.

Thanks, slow day at work.

Stories like these are so sweet.

I've told this on MeFi, but can't find it now.

Part 1: Years ago, I was up near Green Bay with family friends, and was told a wild story of a hated sweater that went back and forth between two brothers for years and years. They found every ingenious way they could to surprise the other with it, including rolling it up in a quilt, inside the lining of a coat, and so on. The friends -- parents and siblings -- all joined in with parts of the story. The piece de resistance was that one of them had a friend who canned or bottled the sweater into an opaque container empty of "product". Purportedly, it wasn't opened for months ...

Part 2: I eventually discovered alt.folklore.urban, became friendly with the Mikkelsons pre-Snopes.com, and realized that this was probably a complete wind-up, a shaggy-dog-story that was told around and embellished. It had all the elements. Classic "friend-of-a-friend" presentation.

Part 3: A few years ago, a news story from Northwestern Wisconsin/Minnesota made the rounds. You know what? It was the story, with names and first-person accounts. I think there may have been a photo of the now-mangled sweater. Or maybe it wasn't a sweater but a fruitcake or something else. But I realized that my family friends may have literally known someone who knew someone, given the geography.

So I was re-taught an old AFU lesson -- just because it's true, doesn't make it not an urban legend.