Pantyhose and Alchemy

This is not Joey, but it could be...

When I was a kid (in the 70's) I had an uncle named Joey that could make gold from old pantyhose. I always kind of figured he had something going on the side, because he didn't work but had a really nice stereo, sharp duds, and traveled constantly.

I wheedled his secret out of him one night when I was 10 years old and he was drunk. I kept bugging him about where his money came from, and I guess he got tired of it. He told me that he got old support pantyhose (support hose worked best he said) from my grandma, and could get about an ounce of gold from 6 pairs. I was totally amazed and wanted to know more but he got all quiet and shifty eyed when my dad came in the room (my father's terrible sense of timing has plagued me my entire life).

A couple of years later we were at his mansion for a visit when I caught my grandma slipping him a paper grocery bag in the kitchen - I could see that it was full of pantyhose. They both jumped when I came around the corner but Joey tells her it's OK. Just then my dad sneezes in the hallway so Joey grabs me and the bag and hustles us out of the sliding glass doors into the backyard.

He had an old shed out there with a padlock on the door and this is where he kept what he called 'The Goose'. It sat on an old workbench in the shed and looked like an old beat up mini fridge with a red funnel sticking out of the top. He tugged the door open and I saw a smallish metal basket resting inside. Grinning, Joey stuffed the pantyhose from the paper bag into this basket. Then he closed the door, latched it, and picked up a gas can from the floor.

"The secret is the kerosene." He sagely informed me, and tipped the can, pouring the clear liquid into the red funnel on The Goose. One of my clearest childhood memories is of that moment - the smell of the kerosene, Joey's striped bell bottoms and gold chain, and that bright red funnel. Oh that funnel!

Then he set the can down, reached around the back of the device, and flipped a switch. The Goose started to quietly hum. I was enthralled.

"That's it for now." he said "We have to wait a couple of weeks for it to finish."

"Wow" I said.

"Don't tell your fucking dad." He added, jabbing a finger at me.

Then we left the shed and he padlocked the door behind us. I never saw the finished product as Uncle Joey died exactly one week later driving my grandma's corvette. She got a new one (a new corvette that is, not a new uncle Joey) so I always figured that she got the machine after that, and I NEVER told my dad.

I'm relaying all this now because my grandmother passed away last month (It was extremely sad - she will be missed), and from her will I received a single large cardboard box. Can you guess what was in it? Yep! The Goose! Yay! After all these years.

I managed to finagle some old pantyhose from my sister in law (boy was that an awkward conversation) for the promise of a corvette sometime in future, and I started a batch last night. The Goose is here beside me now, humming quietly, and I'm here beside myself also - waiting for the two weeks to be up.

Anticipation is a bitter mistress indeed...