His name was Gruffudd Griffith. His father came over from Wales and settled in the town of Fort Griffin, Texas, where he became a dentist after the previous dentist contracted tuberculosis and decided he liked gambling better than working on others people's teeth. This being in the days when personal dental care was almost as widely used as the automatic transmission, who wouldn't? While Grampa Griffith's life makes for an interesting story, it isn't told here.

Gruffudd was born in the dentist office over the general store and, right from the start, he liked the sound of his own voice. It wasn't just that he liked to talk. He liked words. He liked the way they sounded and, in some odd cases, the way they felt on the tongue. Gruffudd was an aficionado of words the way another man might be an aficionado of . . . something else.

In school, while the other kids were playing games like football, baseball, and "throw dirt on the weird kid that's always studying the dictionary", Gruffudd was, well, I bet you can guess what Gruffudd was doing.

At the tender age of sixteen, Gruffudd ran away from school to join the navy and become an etymologist. No, it wasn't a real good idea. He learned a lot of new words though. Words like barnacle, fo'c'sle, lanyard, and many more than can't be repeated here. In the process, he also fell in love with the sea.

After his first tour of duty, Gruffudd returned to the states to seek a formal college education. With that in mind, he showed up for his first day of college in a tuxedo and top hat. This being the usual dress for all students at Cisco Junior College, he fit right in. Especially with the earring, tattoos and "salty-fresh" smell he still hadn't been quite able to lose.

His love of words led him to seek to be known about campus as a gadabout, a bon-vivant, a raconteur, and perhaps even a BMOC. He was, however, known as a "flake", a "weirdo", a "flibbertigibbet" and--by those Texans determined to call him the worst name they possibly could, an "Okie."

Things were looking bad for Gruffudd, so bad that he was thinking of taking the full-ride scholarship he had been offered to some vastly inferior eastern college by the name of Harvard or Yale (or something like that), when his whole life was changed by a double-whammy of almost mythic proportions.

The first of the two whams, which would actually affect his life later, came when he stumbled across a theory in a book down at the drug store wherein a prominent doctor (why else would his book be featured in the drug store!?!) postulated that there were natives on a remote South Seas island whose dialect was closely related to that of the Iowa tribe in Oklahoma. Gruffudd was so enamored with the idea, so fascinated, so--I can't think of another good word to put here--that he even spent the summer between his freshman and sophomore year--when most other students of CJC were busy working towards their degrees in "Field Plowing"--in Perkins, OK.

Again, who wouldn't?

But Gruffudd wasn't there for the same frolicsome frivolities that have attracted most youngsters to the shores of the Cimarron river for decades. He was there to study with the Iowa tribe elders, to learn their language, to convince a whole new group of people that he was some kind of a freak. He succeeded on all accounts.

When summer ended, it was his intention to go back to CJC and complete his associates degree in Land Management, then head to the South Seas in search of the Iowa tribe's cousins. But, the best laid plans of mice and men . . . would probably have worked out better if the man hadn't listened to the mouse. I mean, come on! Even when those things do talk, they rarely ever say anything of lasting value.

Enrolled in "Not Getting Your Head Caught in a Combine 202" Gruffudd met a vivacious young brunette named Charlene. Born of a poor family in the Highland Park area of Dallas, Charlene had come to CJC to pursue her dream: getting out of Highland Park. They fell madly and instantly in love and were soon standing before the justice of the peace. After paying the traffic fine incurred when trying to drive while kissing, they finished their date with a wild night of roller skating out by the world's largest swimming pool.

Later that evening, they returned to the JP and were duly married. A daughter was born to them eleven months later and they named her Raylynn, after no one in particular. She was a beautiful, dark-haired little girl and the apple of her father's eye. And the poker of her father's eye, but she grew out of that.

When Gruffudd graduated with his associate's degree four years later, he was given a grant to go to the South Seas and discover whether there really were Iowa tribe cousins living there. (The grant was provided by the Osage tribe, who hoped they could then convince the Iowa tribe to move to the South Seas.)

So, with the intention of just taking a three month tour (a three month tour) Gruffudd packed his bags, kissed his family goodbye, caught a plane to Minnesota, got off when he realized that wasn't where he wanted to go, caught another plane--this time bound for California, where he would catch a boat for the South Seas--and was never heard from again.